Lock Down
by cheekymice
Summary: AU set in the first season. In showing loyalty to his brother Trey, Ryan finds himself sentenced to thirty six months in the harsh Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:**Lock Down**.  
Rating:** T** Beta: **Melanie39, huge snuggle for Melly.  
** Disclaimer: **I still don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie.**  
Story: AU - **What if things had gone a little differently for Ryan when that Camero crashed. What if he didn't get off quite so lightly?**  
Notes: **This chapter is tame but it will be getting a tad nasty as time goes by. 

**ETA: **Forgot to mention that this fic is dedicated to our lovely maudegonne as I've been promising her a juvie fic for blooming ages.

**Lock Down**

"_Take it Ryan, just take it. I can't be found with this shit on me man, I'd be fucked."_

Ryan remembered Trey's words as he listened to the judge sentencing him to thirty-six months inside. His PD had managed to work miracles as it was his first offence, and his sentence could have been a lot higher, but even he hadn't been able to make the intent to deal rap disappear.

To put it bluntly he was screwed.

Now he was traveling to the place that would be his 'home' for the next three years, The Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility in Chino. It was something that parents used to scare their kids with as they were grew up… 'If you don't behave we'll send you to stay with Uncle Stark, that'll make you change your ways'. Ryan remembered watching a harsh documentary about the place the previous year. It had a high suicide rate and about an eighty percent re-offending rate. Even though the state had obviously tried to show the facility in a good light the seething violence was plain to see, threatening to bust out of the crisp, white, sanitized layer the governor had lain over the grey brick buildings. The place had scared the shit outta him back then and that was when he was safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't be doing anything that would mean a stay inside. Of course, that wasn't accounting for his brother Trey deciding to teach him how to steal cars and dumping eighteen grams of horse on him.

Fucking great, huh? What were big brothers for but to land you time in the big house? Of course it was his own fault for going along with Trey. He could have refused to take the zip lock baggie but to be honest a crashed stolen Camaro with the cops bearing down fast had not exactly been a conducive place when it came to making life-changing decisions.

His PD had done his best to change his mind, he'd seen through the tissue of lies that he'd spun regarding the drugs. He'd never been a good liar and his public defender had taken one look at Trey's record and come up with pretty much the exact series of events in the car just before he'd been arrested. His lawyer told him like it was. He could get him probation for being a passenger in a stolen vehicle but he was going down for the class A's found on him unless he told the truth. As much as he wanted to trust the guy with the easy smile and outrageous brows he couldn't. He couldn't rat out his brother. That might be what they did in New York where his lawyer grew up but it wasn't what you did in Chino. No way. Ryan could never have lived with himself knowing he'd been the one that landed his brother with a big sentence, and if people in Chino found out he'd sold his brother down the river then what good was probation if you were dead for being a rat bastard? Nope, as far as he could see it he had no choice, no matter what his lawyer told him.

He'd have to suck it up and get through the next three years the best he could and hope that he'd get time off for good behavior.

Ryan shifted in his seat in the back of the prison van. His clothes were already creased and he didn't know why he'd bothered dressing good for his hearing. It wasn't like they had made any difference but Theresa's mom had insisted he dress to impress and show the judge respect, she even insisted on buying the clothes for him. It had embarrassed him to have to once more accept his neighbour's charity. Ever since they'd first moved to Chino he'd had to rely on Theresa and her mom, and seeing as his own mother had skipped town and dumped all his belongings in the trash he'd had no choice but to continue to lean on them for the help he always seemed to need.

He felt like he'd let them down big time. Their faces showed the heartbreak clearly, he'd fucked up again.

The handcuffs bit into his wrists and he couldn't sit back without cutting off the blood supply to his hands so he sat forward with his head bent, not looking at the other occupants of the van but choosing the floor. Already the fortified glass at the windows was starting to freak him out. They were all heading to the same place and he didn't want anyone to see the fear in his eyes. Where he was going showing any form of weakness was a recipe for disaster, he knew that, but he needed to get his head around the fact that from now on he would be watched twenty-four seven. If it wasn't the guards then his fellow inmates would be picking at any thread that they could unravel. To Ryan that scared him more than anything. He was solitary by nature and not being able to escape scrutiny filled him with dread more than his sentence did. The grills at the dirty windows seemed to make the other cars on the road want to swerve closer and look in, like they were getting a free show at the zoo. It was just something he'd have to deal with, but for now he stared at a piece of crud on the floor at his feet and tried not to think of what the hell he'd let himself in for.

The van came to a standstill and the sound of slamming doors told him that they'd reached their destination. The doors were wrenched open and a voice told them to stand, which they all did. They were then told to file out one by one. Ryan stood on the hard, dusty ground and took his first look at The Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility. They were stood in a large courtyard, the walls behind him were tall and topped with several levels of razor wire and beyond that seemed to be another chain link fence, similarly topped with the obligatory wire. Several lines of bleachers banked either side of them and a couple of rusty hoops were nailed to the brick walls. Somehow Ryan didn't get the sense that free and easy games went on here.

One of the guards stepped forward with his hands on his belt. Ryan's gaze was drawn to the can of pepper spray and nightstick hanging pride of place from the polished leather. The guard was about 5"10 of solid muscle and a sardonic smile a mile wide. He introduced himself as Officer McCray but they could call him 'sir'. He started to bark at them immediately. Ryan was taken back to watching 'Full Metal Jacket' with Trey. The guy was obviously a frustrated Marine Corps drill sergeant.

"You _will_ listen to what we say at all times. You _will _obey us and you _will _address us as 'Sir' at all times. If we say you run, you run. If we say sleep, you _will_ sleep and if we tell you to take a shit then you'd better be ready to take a shit. Got that?"

It was obvious he was enjoying his little power trip but Ryan knew that he wasn't all talk like some bullies. This guy had the cold, dead eyes of a sadistic bastard; Ryan had been up close with enough in his time to tell that this guy had the back up to his words.

"In here you'll be treated like adults. From this point in be ready to give up sucking on your momma's titties because you are _now_ the property of the Californian correctional program…we own you ….no one gives a crap about you once you are within these walls. You're scum and you'll be treated accordingly. This is no state funded trip to summer camp and you better believe that us upstanding taxpayers will make sure our tax dollars are not being wasted. I can guarantee that your time here will be harsh…learn from it and we'll all get along fine but if you think you can come in here and run the show like you've been getting away with on the outside then you are in for a world of shit." The guard smiled a slow and deliberate smile that didn't reach his eyes. Several of the other guards gave snorting laughs at his words.

All through the rant Ryan kept his face impassive and his eyes to the front, not looking directly at the guard as he walked up and down in front of them. He kept his stare neutral and stared at a point always just beyond the guard's head, neither challenging nor indifferent. First impressions lasted but Ryan could feel the kid next to him shaking and he didn't need to look to see that the kid was crying or fighting tears. Ryan cringed internally. His personality dictated that he offer some form of reassurance that this would be okay but he also knew from growing up in Chino that allegiances made now could make or break you and the way that the guard was enjoying the discomfort of the kid next to him told him to keep looking ahead.

"Well, lookee here, it appears we have a Mary-Sue amongst us." Again the other guards sniggered and it was clear that they were the lap dogs to McCray's wolf. He stood in front of the kid.

"What's your name, boy?"

The kid stuttered.

"Sam…S…Sam B…b…ourdain."

"Sam Bourdain…_what_?" He turned his back.

Sam didn't say anything and Ryan could feel confusion radiate off the kid.

"You have five seconds, boy!" McCray said coldly. "One….two…"

Sam shifted and his shoulder rested against Ryan. He could feel the kid trembling. The other inmates in the row all started to shift in waiting expectancy as to what was going to happen next. Ryan could feel the excitement swell around him and relief that they hadn't been the ones to fuck up.

"Three…" McCray's back was still facing them as he counted but his hand was twitching on his nightstick. Ryan had a bad feeling about this. Shit…why the fuck had he the misfortune of standing next to the green kid who obviously didn't know the rules?

Fuck.

"Four."

"Sir." Ryan hissed out the corner of his mouth.

The kid next to him stiffened.

"Sam Bourdain…S…sir." He may have been a wuss but at least the kid was quick on the uptake.

McCray slowly turned and his lip curled into a shit-eating grin as he locked his eyes on Ryan.

"Well, well…it seems that we have a mother hen to go along with our Mary-Sue and what might your name be, hen?" McCray shoved his face so close to Ryan's that he could smell the sour tang of salami and pickles he'd obviously eaten for lunch on his breath.

"Ryan Atwood, sir." Ryan kept his voice steady and even. He still deployed his tactic of focusing on a point in the distance.

"Atwood…Atwood? Now _where _have I heard that name before?" McCray stared at him and Ryan's heart sunk. He had a pretty good idea as to what was coming.

"Let me see…Atwood…any relation to one Trey Atwood, I wonder?" He gave Ryan an evil grin.

Ryan shut his eyes briefly. The next time he saw his fucking brother he was going to pound the crap out of him. All his life he'd lived with the legacy his brother had left for him... and it wasn't a good one.

"Yes sir…my brother, sir." It stuck in Ryan's craw to have to say 'sir' to the guard but the game was well and truly on now.

"I have many fond memories of your brother, we all do." He half turned and acknowledged that the other guards could join in.

"Oh yeah…Trey was a riot." One guard said.

"He was a fucking prick." Another snarled.

"Trey certainly was a stand up kinda guy. I'll look forward to getting to know his little brother." Again the sick smile played on McCray's face.

Fucking great, Ryan thought.

He'd been at the facility less than twenty minutes and already he was marked out, thanks to Trey. He'd heard enough of his brother's drunken stories of his time here to know these guys would want payback.

McCray stepped back and walked over to the other guards. He said something that sounded suspiciously like 'watch him' and Ryan had no doubt that it was him they were talking about. Ryan deliberately didn't move or show that he was bothered by their scrutiny. He felt like his lungs were going to burst and he realized that he'd been holding his breath….waiting.

Then the moment of tension was gone.

They were all ordered to file into the block to be processed and given a once over by the facilities medical officer.

Sam whispered a hurried thanks to his back but Ryan ignored him.

Why hadn't he just kept his mouth shut? Maybe then he could have flown under everybody's radar for a while until they focused their ire onto someone else but no, he had to jump in with both feet, didn't he?

When would he learn?

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Lock Down  
**Rating: **NC17**  
Beta:****trollydolly****  
Disclaimer:** I still don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie.**  
Story: **AU set in the first season. Due to showing loyalty to his brother Trey, Ryan finds himself sentenced to thirty six months in the harsh Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility.**  
Notes:** This chapter is tame but it will be getting a tad nasty as time goes by. Rated for my potty mouth.

* * *

**Lock Down**

_Chapter two_

Once inside the facility they were kept waiting in a holding tank. Ryan wasn't sure if he was pleased or not when his name was the first to be called. He followed orders and entered a narrow whitewashed and half tiled room. It smelt like Lysol and mildew.

A guy was standing in the room holding a clipboard. Because he was wearing a white coat, Ryan assumed he was a doctor; but there were no introductions. The man told him in a bored voice to strip and place his clothes in one of the bags that sat on a plastic chair. He undressed quickly but took care in folding his suit and shirt. The bag was sealed and a label with his name slapped on it, before it was thrown into a large black bin.

Ryan stood self-consciously, wanting nothing more than to cover his groin, but resisted and stood firm with his head held high hoping that the red flush wasn't too obvious. The doctor nodded to the shower in the corner of the room.

"Shower, use the soap, wash your hair, dry off. You have two minutes." He drawled the words that he'd probably said numerous times already that week.

The water was lukewarm and the bar of hard yellow carbolic soap was cracked and old, Ryan blocked out the thought of how many bodies it had already washed in its lifetime and just did as he was told. He dried his body the best he could on the grey scratchy towel, aware that he was being watched at every turn by the doctor and guard.

He was weighed, measured. Then the doctor snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Ryan swallowed and kept his eyes on the sight chart on the wall opposite but he could see the guard give a sadistic smirk from where he stood. His heart was starting to beat erratically and his palms moistened with dreaded realization.

The inside of his mouth was checked first. The doc grunted and ticked a box on his chart. Then a light shone in his eyes, ears and up his nose. He felt like an animal at the vets; the way he was being pulled around with no warning. The doctor wasn't remotely interested in showing any professionalism; an inmate was just a piece of meat to be manhandled and manhandled he was. Ryan jumped as the doctor roughly grabbed his balls then turned him around and told him to bend over so he could conduct a full cavity search. Ryan breathed deeply and willed away the urge to push, yell and start punching. He felt the hot shame as the ultimate violation was performed on him. He'd put up with a lot in his lifetime but this beat everything he'd had to endure before. He could understand now why Trey had broken a pool cue over someone's head for making a joke about it after he'd been released from juvie the first time.

The doc probed like he was expecting to find the fucking Mona Lisa up there. Ryan suspected that this wasn't just about checking for contraband, this was about making you feel small and worthless, insignificant, a perfect welcome to the facility. Maybe it had something to do with the posession rap but it also crossed his mind that this might be special treatment just for him…care of Officer McCray. The way the guard was grinning, it was a definite possibility.

Yet as quickly as it started it was over. The doctor pulled off the gloves, declared him 'clean' and put them in the trash. In a tight voice, Ryan answered the doctor's questions about STDs and childhood diseases, and was then dismissed with a wave of a hand. The doctor sat down at the desk and didn't look up again, instead concentrating on filling out the forms in front of him.

The guard that had stood in the corner of the room throughout called him over. Ryan let him look him up and down and ask what size shoe. The guard grabbed several folded items off the shelf and thrust them at him.

"Two jumpsuits, four pairs of underwear, four pairs of socks, four vests, one pair of sneakers. Write your name in them. Lose them, tough shit. Laundry every Friday, if you want clean clothes then you put your dirty laundry in your pillowslip and leave outside your room before 9am. If you want you can have your family bring in extra tees and underwear as long as the shirts are white, you can purchase extra regulation jumpsuits from the prison shop."

The guard paused for breath before continuing on.

"You will have a government allowance of $15 a month which will be held on account for you, your family can also top up money and you can spend it in the shop on cigarettes, candy, soap and toiletries, magazines and books etcetera, etcetera. Get dressed quickly Atwood and fuck off out that door when you've finished. Someone will take you to the room which will be your home for the foreseeable."

Ryan did as he was told, thankful to at last be able to cover his nakedness. He gathered up the rest of his allotted clothes and walked over to the door that was indicated to him. He tried the handle and found it locked. He supposed he'd have to get used to that now. He knocked and the door opened to show another guard.

"Atwood?"

"Yes sir." He responded.

"Follow me."

He was led down corridors and up metal stairs. He ignored the cold stares and catcalls he got from the other inmates along the way.

The guard stopped outside a heavy metal door and indicated that this was going to be his. Ryan entered the room and looked around. It held a bunk, two desks, two chairs, two shelves, a sink and a stainless steel toilet. The top bunk was obviously occupied, an open book lay face up on the made bed whereas the bottom bunk was stripped bare and a pile of sheets and blankets sat in the centre of the grubby mattress. One of the shelves was in use, cans of deodorant, soda and books lined up in a row. Photos were tacked up on the wall next to the bed. Ryan wondered who he was sharing with but didn't want to ask.

"Put your stuff on the empty shelf." The guard watched Ryan for a couple of seconds then turned on his heels and exited the room, shutting the door behind him. Ryan felt a moment of panic. Just the fact that nothing more had been said to him was enough to make the room oppressive. He had so many unanswered questions but he figured that this whole experience was going to be a lesson in learning as he went along. He'd been in juvie on remand waiting for his case to come to trial but even though it hadn't been easy, he'd definitely been babysat to a certain extent.

This was the real deal.

Ryan walked over to the door and pushed, but found it locked. He supposed he'd have been used to it after spending the past ten days inside but this had the feel of permanence now and it scared him. He sat down on one of the chairs and ran his hands through his hair as he listened to the sounds of the facility. The heavy footfalls clattering up and down the metal stairs and platforms, the hyped up shouts and curses and the shouted orders from the guards were crowding inwards towards him.

Three years of this.

It seemed like an eternity.

* * *

Ryan awoke to the sound of a loud bell. He sat bolt upright and cracked his head against the steel struts of the bunk above him. He heard his cellmate snigger.

"Don't worry, everyone does that the first day. You'll get used to the wake up bell, gets so that you'll wake five minutes before it's due just to keep it from giving you a fuckin' heart attack."

A shape jumped down on the floor and stood in front of the toilet.

"You don't say much do ya?"

At least the words partly covered up the sound of pee hitting the bowl.

Ryan just grunted in response. His cellmate had turned up at 9pm the night before. He introduced himself as 'Dante' and told Ryan that he'd 'kill him' if he snored. Dante then had settled down with his book and not spoken again. That had been it. The lights had been turned out at ten-thirty and within fifteen minutes Ryan had listened to the sound of the worse snores he'd ever heard. Ironic really.

Ryan rubbed his forehead and pushed back the covers. He watched Dante roll a cigarette with interest. He was gasping for a smoke. Dante slowly licked the paper and flicked his eyes towards Ryan. Maybe the naked need for nicotine was a universal white flag because Dante held out the cigarette to him. Normally pride would have stopped him from taking it but from where he sat he had nothing.

"Thanks."

Ryan sucked the smoke into his lungs and almost choked but held it together. Filters were something he'd never thought about before but his chest was screaming out for one right now. He moderated his smoking style and found he could tolerate the hand rolled smoke a lot better. The nicotine was certainly a welcome friend after his enforced abstinence.

Dante was watching him as he rolled himself a smoke. Ryan looked him straight in the eye. He had a feeling that something was going on behind that impassive exterior. Ryan had the impression that Dante had been sizing him up, he wasn't sure he passed muster as his face wasn't giving anything away. The guy was small and dark, he was like a tightly wound spring and his demeanour warned not to underestimate. Ryan suspected diluted Latin heritage somewhere. Dante looked like 'gang' but unlike the part time players, he was the real deal. He didn't need colors or subordinates to show his power. Ryan had seen enough 'wannabies' in Chino to know that Dante was one of the dangerous.

They both smoked in silence for a minute then Dante spoke.

"You know you were put in here with me deliberately?"

Ryan kept his mouth shut but raised an eyebrow to let him know he was listening.

"You see I have a reputation for not… tolerating my cellmates. The last guy didn't see through the night." Dante added without one shred of humor. "He snored."

"Yeah?" Ryan said and started to tense getting ready to fight if necessary. He flicked the ash off his cigarette into the foil ashtray.

"It's well known that I like my space and don't like sharing. I've spent so much time in solitary for fucking up cellmates that they'd given me my very own room to save on the paperwork. Plus it looks better for them when it comes to audit time, less having to explain all the extra injuries. I've been on my own for the past four months...until you."

Dante stubbed his smoke out and leant back in his chair. He folded his arms and stared at Ryan with a look he couldn't interpret. Ryan took one last pull on his smoke before he also stubbed it out. trying to appear unconcerned as to where this was going.

"So, I'm wondering why you've been put in here? Word is that the powers that be wouldn't be upset if I fucked you over. Why is that? Are you some kind of kiddie fiddler or granny rapist and I'm being used to get some extra retribution? The thing is Ryan, I don't like being used but I hate sharing more. So why don't you try and change my mind as to why I should just beat the shit outta you for invading my space."

Ryan took a deep breath.

"Not sure I can say anything to help. You seem to be the kind of guy who makes up his own mind and if you want to take me on so be it but don't think that I'm not going to fight back."

There was a moment of tension where things could have gone either way. Luckily Dante broke into a smile and tossed his tobacco pouch at Ryan, which he caught.

"Good answer. I hate people who fucking squirm. Roll me another and one for yourself."

"So, I asked around as to who you were. You're a known quantity in Chino. Generally liked. In for car theft and possession, arrested with your brother. You keep your nose clean in general. You know how to keep your mouth shut. You're not afraid to use your fists even though you kinda suck at fighting. Oh and you fuck like a rabbit … be warned that several guys in here want a word with you for fucking their girlfriends, mothers or sisters. Anything I need to add?"

Dante grinned and accepted the thin white stick from Ryan.

"I guess you have done your homework."

Ryan let himself smile.

"So the million dollar question is; how've you pissed people off before you've even started?"

Ryan picked up the lighter and sparked up.

"Partly my fault, I butted heads with an asshole guard called…McCready…McCray? But it's mainly down to my brother. He seems to have left such a lasting impression around here that I think several people are hoping to try and even out the score through me."

"McCray huh…that figures." Dante sucked air through his teeth.

"So where do we stand?" Ryan spoke again. " I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here and I fully understand if you feel you have to maintain your reputation. Can I just tell you though that I may suck at fighting but I've got one hell of a swing on me."

Dante got up and lent against the bunk.

"Seems to me that we have a situation here. As you said, people expect me to act a certain way but you know it could be kind of fun watching McCray's face when he sees you still alive at breakfast. The guys a prick and as I said I don't like being played. Atwood, the word on the street is you're someone a guy can rely on if things hit the fan even though you ain't gang, so what do you say to a little alliance?"

Dante held his hand out for a gang handshake.

Ryan paused.

"Man…you've gotta choose sides at some point because there are going to be a whole lot of people out there who're going to want a piece of you. Let me tell ya, you can do a lot worse believe me. You're either with me or against and believe me…you do not want to make an enemy of me."

His eyes had a hard look of steel about them.

Ryan took a second to think. What Dante said was true and he didn't have long to decide.

He reached out his hand and touched knuckles with Dante.

"Welcome to Herman man. And we'd better motor. Gotta be down in the mess hall in ten." Dante turned, grabbed his deodorant and sprayed it under his arms.

Ryan got up and pulled his jumpsuit off the end of his bed and slung it over his shoulder. He went to the sink and brushed his teeth with his finger. He wondered about the shop and when he'd be getting some money from the state because there was no way his mom was going to come through in that department. He'd have to ask Dante. He rinsed his face in cold water and got dressed.

Well, it was too late to worry about what he'd just gotten himself into. It wasn't like he'd had much choice right now.

That was the story of his life.

Following Trey into that car.

Now Dante.

He just hoped he hadn't made an already big mistake even worse.

**  
TBC**

Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Lock Down**

Chapter 3

Ryan walked next to Dante as they entered the dining hall. Inmates craned their necks as they passed and they muttered excitedly to each other. It was obvious that this was a new and talk worthy development, not only had Dante not beaten up his latest cellmate but he was blatently showing everyone that Ryan was now under his protection. Ryan kept his eyes neutrally ahead, he was still not sure about pledging his allegiance so early on considering he knew nothing about Dante but it beat the alternative as far as he could see.

He followed Dante's lead and picked up a tray. The line in front magically melted away and he found himself at the front. Interesting. His cellmate wasn't fooling around when he said that he could do worse and it appeared that people obviously respected…or were just plain scared of Dante. A plastic mug of coffee the color of mud, scoop of grey oatmeal and slice of rubbery toast later and the room went ominously silent. Ryan turned to find the reason stood behind him.

McCray and he looked twenty shades of pissed.

"Atwood alive and well…isn't that a thing? You must give one hell of a blowjob son to manage to ingratiate yourself so quickly into the dubious fold." His words were said with a lightness that did nothing to hide the spite and disappointment that lay behind them.

Dante turned slowly and looked McCray up and down.

"You sound disappointed McCray. Things not quite go as you planned huh." Dante grinned and said in a clear and loud voice. "Me and Atwood go back a loooong way. Didn't you know? Hell, just imagine my surprise to find that he'd been assigned to my cell. You obviously hadn't done your homework McCray…must be slipping."

Dante slung his arm firmly around Ryan's shoulder and kissed the top of his head before releasing him and turning towards the serving line. The guy behind the counter added the lumpy oatmeal to the tray with a smirk.

"There you go Man, one or two slices?"

"Two thanks. You see Atwood is like a god damn brother to me…and if anyone messes with him, well, I guess they mess with me." He took a chew out of one of the pieces of toast and grabbed a carton of milk and added it to his meal.

Ryan tried not to react to Dante's obvious lies and the theatrical way he was letting people know how things stood.

McCray looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. He pursed his lips and shot a death glare towards Ryan before turning and striding away. He barked an order to another guard as a way of grabbing back some face.

"Oh and for your information I don't swing that way… but I've heard that if you go by the glue factory on the south side the little Latino hustlers give a mean blowjob for a good price…I think they might give discount for public sector workers." Dante called to McCray's retreating back to the laughter of the inmates and even several smirks from a couple of the guards.

They made their way to a table and sat down. Dante nodded to the seated occupants. They were the type of men you didn't want to meet on a dark night.

"That's Wolf, Spence, Silvio and the guy with the bad haircut is Ronk." Dante gave a vague wave as he introduced Ryan to the table.

They all nodded at Ryan but Ronk grinned broadly at him.

"Hey, I was high on Angel Dust, it seemed like a good time for a trim."

Ryan couldn't help but stare at the wiry tattooed man with singed tufted blond hair that sprouted unevenly over his head.

"With a cigarette lighter?" Dante raised an eyebrow; he dug his plastic spoon into the oatmeal and shovelled it into his mouth whilst the table laughed. "Ronk is certifiable but many people have misread his affable lunacy and lived to regret it."

Ronk winked at Ryan and he had no doubt that behind the grey laughing eyes lived the soul of a cold stone psychopath.

Dante introduced him although he had suspected that they already knew full well who he was.

"This is Atwood, he doesn't really say much but he isn't a shrinking violet. McCray has got a major hard on for him which is enough in my book for him to join us. Fuck, did you see the look on McCray's face when we walked in. He looked like he swallowed a rattlesnake. Seriously man, you've made an enemy there and you better watch out. We can help but we can't watch your back 24/7."

"McCray is a wild cannon and he's untouchable. He gets away with murder…literally." Silvio said quietly and looked pointedly at Ryan, waiting for a reaction.

"You serious?" Ryan knew that things were hard in juvie but murder was a little more than even he cared to believe.

"No shitting Atwood." The guy called Spence spoke through a mouthful of toast, he looked like a clean-cut college quarterback, only the black winding barbed wire that snaked from his wrist up his arm and wound around his neck told a different tale. "The suicide rate in here is wack…but there've been a couple of hokey hangings and slit wrists and shit that just don't jibe. I mean these people weren't newbie's or emotional fuckups. They were hard-asses and not the type you'd think would want to choose to bite the big one. And each death happened coincidentally after McCray and his cronies have visited?"

Spence let the question float in the air.

"No one can ever prove anything…not that the powers listen to us, no one gives a shit about us once we in here."

Ryan looked towards Dante for confirmation.

"It's true but as Spence says nothing can be proven, it's become like an urban myth but I've been here too long and seen too much not to think that there is something in it. I do know that something is going on. Inmates just disapear from circulation for no good reason only to pop up weeks later looking like shit. Just saying watch your back that's all."

Ryan pushed his tray away and Ronk pounced.

"Mind?" He questioned and Ryan nodded as Ronk grabbed his cold toast.

"And that's not all you have to watch out for." Wolf scratched his shaven head and inclined his eyes over towards the far side of the room. Ryan turned. A table of gang bangers had firmly focused on them. At the head of the table sat a guy who was turned their way. He had long dreadlocked hair, was a good sixty pounds overweight and was lazily picking his teeth with a Spork as he eyed them.

"That's Napoleon and he's one mean motherfucker. We don't exactly get on… so ergo he doesn't get on with you now." Dante stared over Ryan's head at the table before turning his attention back to Ryan. He nodded to the far end of the hall to where a table of Latinos were arguing. "And over there is Alverez and his posse, also someone to avoid if you don't want a knife in the guts. And of course you really don't want to attract the attention of Pinkie, the big fairy over there wearing eyeliner and lip-gloss. I don't need to tell you what his specialty is."

"Is there _anyone_ here that I don't have to avoid?" Ryan shook his head.

"Its real fun in here…laugh a minute, I think you're getting the picture now huh." Dante said and the table sniggered.

Ryan picked up his coffee and took a gulp. This was going to be worse than he imagined. He hoped that he could just blend into the shadows and wait out his sentence but that was obviously not going to happen. He was not going to fly under the radar here and that had not been the plan.

He turned and took one last look at Napoleon. He was still ominously eyeballing their table. He was going to be major trouble, Ryan just felt it in his water.

As he was about to turn back he saw a table of most of yesterdays intake, the people he'd ridden the bus in with. Sam Bourdain the kid who had unwittingly set everything in motion caught his eye and his weary features changed as he eagerly nodded a greeting across the hall. Ryan nodded back because as much as he wanted to blame the kid for the situation he now found himself in he couldn't bring himself to hold a grudge. God knows what he was in for because Bourdain was obviously as green as they come and Ryan had never been the type of person who jumped on someone weaker than himself. He knew from personal experience how that felt and vowed never to be that man. The next moment someone walked behind the scared looking kid and shoved his elbow off the table so he spilt his tray over himself. The inmate walked off laughing as Bourdain flushed red.

Ryan fervently wished he were sitting at that table, tray tipping aside he had a feeling it would be a safer place in the long run.

* * *

Dante worked in the laundry during the day so Ryan found himself back in his cell with only his own company to keep himself occupied. He sat on his bunk and smoked as he stared at the underside of the mattress above. He still wasn't used to the sounds of the prison yet but they were becoming less threatening. He still jumped when the door of his cell crashed open.

One of the guards stood in the doorway. Ryan sat up and stubbed his cigarette out guiltily but it seemed like underage smoking was the least of the guards worries and he didn't bat an eye.

"Atwood, your lawyer is here."

"My lawyer?" Ryan frowned.

"You lawyer! Get your ass into gear, I haven't got all day."

Ryan stood and followed the guard. He wasn't aware he _had_ a lawyer anymore. As far as he was concerned his public defenders obligation was over when he got sentenced.

Mr Cohen sat behind a desk shuffling papers when he entered the room.

"Ryan. Good to see you." He stood and held out his hand. Ryan tentatively shook it. "How are you…I won't say settling in but how are you getting on? Please sit."

"I'm fine." Ryan pulled out a chair. "Mr Cohen why are you here?"

"I've told you before…it's Sandy and I'm still your lawyer Ryan and I'm working on your case." Sandy pulled out a sheet of paper from under the pile.

"What case? There is no case now. I'm here." Ryan stated.

"Quite frankly I'm not happy, this was a first offence and there was no way that three years fits the crime. The judge is known to be hard but something is off here. I'm lodging an appeal."

"Why?" Ryan frowned.

"I've just told you. You should have got probation or the very least a couple of months." Sandy looked perplexed.

"I get that but why do you even care enough to lodge an appeal? I thought most PD's were only paid by the state to defend and as I've been sentenced your job is done."

"That's may be how some people see it but that's not how I work kid. I believe in the law but the law has seriously let me down." Sandy lent back in his chair and ran one of his hands over his face. "You don't belong here Ryan. You're a bright kid, look at your test results and I know damn well that you're covering for your brother and at most you're only guilty of sheer stupidity by getting in that car with Trey."

Ryan looked into Sandy's eyes. He wasn't sure he liked what he saw. This guy was genuinely trying to help. Ryan sighed. Mr Cohen was obviously too much of a bleeding heart to be in this job. He idly wondered how long it would take for him to get jaded and not to give a shit anymore. Maybe this case would be the straw that broke the camels back, he had that affect on people.

"An appeal isn't going to help Sandy. I fucked up and now I've just got to face the consequences. I appreciate it really but you must be busy enough as it is without worrying about cases that are over."

Sandy smiled.

"My wife tells me I'm a tenacious son of a bitch, I don't think she means it as a compliment but I choose to take it as one. I just pride myself on not leaving things unfinished...it makes me uneasy."

Sandy grew serious.

"I'm going to do my very best to get you out. You're not a bad kid and I've seen what these places can do to a person. You don't belong here and I'm not leaving you in here kid. I'm your lawyer and that's final whether you want me or not."

Ryan didn't say anything. To be honest he didn't know how to respond. Here was someone who didn't need to give a shit but he did and to be honest Ryan was dumfounded. His whole life had been lived expecting disappointment, hell, his own mother had left him high and dry but this lawyer was doing all he could to help him.

Why?

"Thanks." It didn't seem enough but it was all he could say.

Sandy talked for a time about the legal side of an appeal then the guard told them their time was up. Sandy checked his watch before he got up and again shook Ryan's hand…like he was a proper person. The guard pushed him forward and into the corridor. Ryan's heart sunk at the prospect of going back to the cell after speaking to his upbeat lawyer. As he walked down the corridor Sandy caught up to him.

"Hey, Ryan, I've put some money on account for you, you know for sundries and things and just let me know if you need anything and I'll bring it in."

Now Ryan was really dumfounded and also embarrassed as hell.

"Mr Cohen. I can't accept money from you." Ryan frowned.

"Just humor me. You can pay me back once you get out okay." Sandy said cheerfully before he slapped his forehead. "Oh I almost forgot. My son, Seth, sent some comics for you to read although don't tell him I called them that…. graphic novels he keeps telling me although they were comics in my day."

Sandy pulled out several glossy magazines from his briefcase.

"Here, oh and he told me to tell you to read the 'League of Extraordinary Gentlemen' first if you've never read 'graphic novels' before as it's apparently a good one to ease yourself into."

The guard impatiently cleared his throat so Ryan grabbed the bundle of magazines.

"Um…tell him thanks." He said as he left the room.

Ryan looked down at the paper in his hands. Jesus even his son was a nice kid. Ryan suddenly envied the whole family that seemed a million miles away from his own.

* * *

McCray threw the file down on the desk. Pico. McCray's middle-aged lapdog and partner picked it up and opened it. He scratched his earlobe as he read.

"Mother MIA, father not been around for years and his dumb ass brother in for a long stretch. He's perfect."

McCray lent back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. He gave Pico a slow smile.

"I think we've found ourselves a candidate Pico."

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Lock Down**

Chapter 4

Boredom was the main villain that crippled a person in jail Ryan soon found. He'd only been at Herman for a week and it already seemed like an eternity in hell. Lack of staff and government funding meant that most inmates spent on average twenty-one hours locked inside their cells. Ryan only left the small room for meals and a snatched hour spent in the recreation yard where he shot hoops with Dante, Ronk and Wolf whilst Silvio and Spence kept a lookout.

Ryan had always been a solitary soul but even he couldn't reconcile spending that amount of time within four walls with his own company to occupy his time. It was beginning to seriously get to him.

Dante worried enough about his slipping mental health to put the feelers out for a job for him. The kitchens were considered the prize work wise with cleaning duties and the laundry being the worst but Ryan didn't care what he did as long as it got him out of the cell during the day. Although he fitted all the requisite criteria Ryan found he was turned down flat for any work detail.

No surprise.

Ryan was finding that McCray definitely held all the cards at Herman. Phone privileges had been mysteriously revoked for him since day one and when he'd managed to ring Theresa on an illicit cell phone that Dante had access to he'd found that a visitor order had been turned down citing Ryan's 'antisocial behaviour'. Ryan hadn't so much as raised his voice to anyone since he'd arrived so it wasn't perplexing as to what was really going on. It seemed to him that he was deliberately being isolated from the outside world. Ryan's enquiring mind found himself mulling it over during the long hours he spent lying on his bunk. He wasn't sure if it was purely down to spite on McCray's part or something more sinister. He was leaning towards petty malice; a punishment after the plan to use Dante fell short of its expected violence. Ryan had been expecting payback but if that was all McCray had planned then he could cope, although not being able to see Theresa would be hard. She was an important person in his life, the one constant person he could count on when he was growing up and a confidant to his hopes and deepest fears. At least he had access to a phone and his snatched late night conversations were precious to him and for that he had Dante to thank.

Ryan was beginning to relax around his cellmate now. Dante had also dropped his hard ass routine when they were alone. Ryan would listen as Dante talked about his childhood and found that they weren't all that different. They each had to contend with a steady stream of violent men growing up. It also surprised Ryan that he also opened up to Dante to the more personal side of things more than he had thought he would to someone he'd only know for a week. There was something about the oppressive cell that promoted open talk after lights out.

Dante's own tale was one of unavoidable manslaughter during a violent gang fight had been told without brag or pride and that alone had made Ryan rethink his intense cellmate. He was beginning to see past the bravado to the man behind the public act. Ryan thought he saw in Dante a resigned relief, someone who had probably always known that they'd end up in prison owing to family tradition. It was kind of depressing, as it was a dubious legacy Ryan himself could relate to.

They also bonded over what fuckers McCray and his cronies were.

Ryan had learnt that most of the guards were power crazy assholes who thought nothing of making your life hell for the fun of it. The put downs were easy to take for Ryan, he'd been called a lot worse in his life by people who meant a lot more. The exception he found was a guard called Waddell. A cheerful ruddy faced Canadian in his mid-fifties just ticking off the days on a mental calendar until he retired. He was a gregarious man who liked to talk and he'd taken to visiting Ryan during the day to waste time and chat. Ryan surprisingly found himself looking forward to his visits.

Waddell kind of reminded Ryan of Mr Cohen, both seemed to have faith in him that Ryan couldn't understand. Waddell also suggested something that would help with his isolation and boredom; also it was something that McCray couldn't veto it seemed, he encouraged Ryan to continue his studies. Herman had a comprehensive study program but it wasn't mandatory and not many took it up. In all fairness the three R's weren't exactly high on most of the inmate's priorities. Ryan was perplexed, Waddell certainly seemed to show the same misguided faith in him as Mr. Cohen, telling him that with his grade point average he couldn't afford not to continue with his education. He didn't really care about furthering his studies but he didn't have anything better to do with his time and as Waddell said it would keep him with the monotony of imprisonment. He had a point. Ryan would be willing to do anything if it got him out of his cell for longer than an hour.

Ryan tried not to focus too much on Sandy and his hopes for the appeal but after only a week inside Ryan knew that he probably wouldn't be able to hack a three-year sentence.

Waddell had just left for his rounds and the long afternoon stretched in front of him. Dinner was five hours away. It came to something that he actually looked forward to meals even though the food was beyond shit purely as a means to get him out of his cell.

Ryan spent the next hour doing sit ups, press-ups, finishing with fifty arm lifts on the bunk frame to kill time. He had a strip wash to remove the sweat he'd built up and dried him-self on his rough prison issue towel.

He flopped down despondently on his bunk. He'd already worked his way through Dante's battered thrillers. Ryan's gaze found the comics that Sandy had brought in sitting abandoned on the shelf. He slid off the bed and picked them up. They really weren't his kind of thing but for the lack of any other reading material they'd do, plus it was kind of nice for the kid to think of him. He lay back down on his bed and lit a Marlboro. The money Sandy had left on account had proved more than useful, Ryan was now the proud owner of various essential toiletries and extra clothes but the bulk of the money spent was going on cigarettes. He wasn't sure that's what Mr Cohen had in mind but it was his only link to what was normal, a familiar ritual that helped calm him and now was not the time to give up. He inhaled deeply as he started to read about the adventures of Mina Harker, Dorian Grey and Captain Nemo. It wasn't bad, certainly it had a fairly decent plot.

He flicked ash into the tray balanced on his knee as he turned the page. He promptly dropped the cigarette in shock and it landed dangerously in his groin. He jumped to get the red glowing cancer stick away from his dick and slammed his head into the metal struts of the bunk above for his pains. He swore loudly and blew on his burnt fingers after he ground the offending cigarette out in the ashtray. Ryan then grinned and picked up the graphic novel opening it to about five pages in. He turned it on its side and looked at the pneumatic blond who seemed to be having one hell of a time pleasuring her-self with a champagne bottle. He started to laugh as he examined the pages. Sandy's son had painstakingly inserted probably one of the filthiest porn magazines Ryan had ever encountered carefully into the centre of the 'League of Gentlemen' novel; even the staples had been reinserted in the exact place of the originals. Ryan found a message from the perpetrator at the back of the magazine. A caricature of a thin dark, curly haired boy with waved from the page.

_'Hi, I'm Seth._

_Dad talks about you all the time and says you are a 'pretty cool' guy. Yes, those were his exact words but I must tell you that he is a confirmed surfer so he sadly uses phrases like 'cool' and 'rad' with embarrassing frequency._

_If he thinks you're 'cool' then you must be okay, Dad has this new age New York mojo thing going on and he's usually spot on at winkling out the sane from the psychotic… so I'm totally going to go with the fact that you aren't some axe wielding madman._

_So juvie huh?_

_The only frame of reference I have about prison is from 'The Shawshank Redemption' and watching 'The Great Escape' every Christmas. Dude, it sucks! I'd be shit scared all the time._

_I wasn't sure if the porn was allowed so I figured that the up most in stealth was needed. I don't think my dad will get frisked. I'm also working on how to get a file inside to you. Do you actually have bars on the windows? Anyway I'm currently working on hollowing out the inside of a book to smuggle contraband in for you with my dad working as the unsuspecting mule. Heh…the fool._

_Seriously, if you need anything tell my dad and I'll try and get it for you. And if you haven't already discovered then I've also 'doctored' the other novels._

_Enjoy._

_Seth Cohen_

Ryan found himself welling up. He angrily swiped at his face and took a deep breath. There was something beguiling about the note from Sandy's son. Maybe it was the open friendliness from a complete stranger that got to him or the fact that this Seth had taken the time to do something just for him. Ryan wasn't used to people being so openly nice. In Chino it just wasn't done, it was almost a sign of weakness. Sandy's son was offering honest friendship to a convicted con he didn't even know and it came at a time when Ryan needed it most.

Ryan got up and got his writing pad down from the shelf. He started working on a letter to Seth.

* * *

If there were a place that made a person feel more insignificant and like an animal than the study wing at Herman then Ryan had yet to find it. The room was an oppressively large and dark expanse of dismal grey. What shocked Ryan most was that the students were each locked into individual cages to be taught. Each was a two-foot square rusting metal cage set a further two-foot from it's neighbour to allow the teacher to walk freely without any threat from the occupant. Ryan sat on the rickety chair with his books balanced on a wooden tray that showed many scars from previous occupants. Names and dates, curses and threats were etched into the soft wood along with old fossilized gum and ink stains.

The teacher, a Miss Gonne, was a nervous woman who looked like she wanted to be a million miles away. Ryan tried to concentrate on his text book but the other occupants of the cages spent most of their time making filthy overtures to the teacher and noisily swore to each other even though the guard who stood in the corner of the room regularly slammed the cages with his nightstick and told them to 'shut it'. Needless to say he didn't join in. Several times Ryan caught Miss Gonne watching him with a puzzled look on her face. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring look. No one should have to put up with what she was facing when she came here.

"Hey Miss, you wearing underwear? Wanna show us?" The guy in the next cage leered and grabbed his groin.

The teacher flushed red and tried to ignore him.

"Hey, I asked you a question bitch." The guy got up and rattled the mesh aggressively.

Ryan could feel the tension radiate off the woman in front. She appeared terrified although she was doing her best to not show it. He wondered why the hell she was here. There must be other jobs out there, maybe it was some personal quest or maybe she wanted to prove to herself that she could do it.

"Ferris, sit down." The guard shouted but he didn't move from away from the wall.

"Got something for you right here." Again with the groin grabbing like he was some Michael Jackson tribute act. "Hey…are you frigid or something?"

There was a smattering of laughs.

Miss Gonne pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and steadfastly stared at her desk.

"Shut the fuck up and treat the lady with some respect. She's not like the cheap sluts you usually date. She doesn't charge."

Ryan didn't lift his head from the math book he was working from. His voice was quiet but clear.

"What the fuck did you say to me?" The guy moved to face Ryan and slammed the cage again with his fists.

"You heard." Ryan said as he tapped his pencil calmly against his book.

"Don't fucking disrespect me man or I'm going to rip your fucking head off."

"How are you going to do that? Seems like you can't do dick right now." Ryan glanced at Ferris for a second before he turned away with a look of disgust on his face.

That seemed to enrage the guy and he started to throw himself around the cage uttering curses and choice words as to what he was going to do to Ryan when they both got out on the floor. To Ryan's eyes he seemed high on something. He wasn't so naive to not that drugs were easily come by in prison but they seemed particularly prevalent at Herman Ryan had found. Whatever you wanted you could get, uppers, downers, horse, Charlie, ludes…whatever. Most used as a way of getting through the day but this guy seemed to have a serious problem. He was plain unstable. Several other students started to act up. They shouted and rattled their cages like over excited baboons sensing blood.

The guard swung into action, he called for reinforcements and several men rushed in and advanced on the cages. The other students who weren't staging a show started to shout encouragement to Ferris and his cohorts as they fought with the guards before being forcefully cuffed and dragged out of the room.

The room eventually quietened and Ryan went back to working on his math problems now that the drama was over. He didn't even hear Miss Gonne move across the room.

"Thank you for what you did." She smiled shyly at him.

"No problem." He replied and shrugged.

"Can I see?" She indicated to the pages in front of him. He slid them through the narrow cut out in the cage. She studied the page and looked up with a look of incredulity. "You've got every problem right…even the workings out are clear and concise. You're good."

"I enjoy math." Ryan blushed at her praise. It seemed that students wanting to actually study was a rarity for her. He heard someone call him a 'suck up' from behind him but he didn't care. He wasn't out to make any friends. Miss Gonne's face lit up and she talked about organizing a program for him, he found himself getting excited at the prospect of having something to get his teeth into and distract him from his environment The way the teacher talked he knew she had a lot to offer him and he'd learn a lot from her. He was so focused on telling Miss Gonne what subjects he'd enjoyed at school that he wasn't paying attention to the room anymore. The cage had almost melted from his consciousness so he didn't notice the heavy door open again.

A new guard came into the room and walked over towards them.

"Atwood! On your feet with your hands behind your back." The guard was smiling ominously.

"Mr Pico! What is the meaning of this?" Miss Gonne asked as she frowned.

"You do your job and I'll do mine." Pico responded. He unlocked Ryan's cage and before Ryan could react he found himself being pushed up hard against the side of the cage. The wire bit into his face as Pico twisted Ryan's arms behind his back.

"But he hasn't done anything." Miss Gonne spluttered.

Ryan felt cold steel bite into his wrists as Pico snapped the cuffs on. They were on way too tight but Ryan knew better than to complain.

"What has he done?" The teacher asked again.

Ryan would have been flattered at her concern had he not had a bad feeling about this, a really bad feeling. Something about this was not right. His fears were soon realized when the door clanged opened again and McCray strode into the room.

"Incitement to riot Ma'am." McCray ran his tongue slowly over his teeth.

"He was defending me." Miss Gonne cried. "He wasn't responsible for what happened!"

"Don't be fooled Ma'am, Atwood is a known troublemaker."

"That's a crock of shit McCray." Ryan struggled against Pico's hold. McCray just grinned and nodded towards the door. Ryan was propelled outside with McCray following behind.

The room was strangely silent now. Ryan saw that everyone was avoiding McCray's eyes. He knew that the guard was not liked but this was something else, he saw naked fear on the faces. What the hell could cause that reaction in people that were not easily intimidated?

Ryan had the feeling he'd soon be finding out.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Lock Down  
**Beta: **None...so all the many, many mistakes are all mine even though I've checked about a million times. My brain has turned to mush I fear.**  
Disclaimer:** I still don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie. Fuck!**  
Story: **AU set in the first season. Due to showing loyalty to his brother Trey, Ryan finds himself sentenced to thirty six months in the harsh Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility.**  
Notes:** This chapter is a tad evil. twirls 'tashe and ducks the rotting fruit

**Lock Down **

_Chapter 5_

"I don't understand. He knew I was coming today." Sandy was tired and sweaty from the drive down. To be told it was a wasted journey was just the cherry on the top of the cake.

"This often happens. The little bastards…excuse the language…like to play power games." The guard picked a bit of imaginary fluff off of his uniform.

"Ryan's not like that. He was fine last time I spoke with him. I really don't understand why he won't see me. Could you check again please?" Sandy frowned as he tried to think what he might have said that might have upset Ryan. He came up blank. Ryan had been fairly upbeat about the appeal, he'd even relaxed enough to smile a few times.

The guard reassured him.

"Trust me Mr Cohen, Atwood knows you're here, he just doesn't want to see you. And we can't force him to see anyone if he chooses not to…this human rights legislation has got a lot to answer for. Gives them more rights than you or I. The world has gone crazy when thugs and murderers get more rights than Joe Public. Like a holiday camp here now compared to the old days...then it was a _real_ punishment."

Sandy bit his tongue as the guard talked. From what he'd seen the correctional facilities he'd visited were just as harsh and nasty as they'd always been. Maybe it was different if you were working on the inside, Sandy seriously doubted it but he let the guard vent his spleen.

"Look, you seem to think that the kid is salvageable…" The guard sighed dramatically. "But I've got to warn you that he's already inserted himself deep into the bad crowd. If you ask me he's just showing his real colors because from what I see he's certainly enjoying the notoriety that comes with running with murderers and gang colors. Considering this is his first time inside he's slotted straight in, likes being a big fish in a small pond and doesn't need you anymore. Maybe this kid has been playing you all along, I mean, how well do you know him really? And you _are_ putting money on account for him aren't you?"

Sandy frowned and his heart beat faster. It was true. He didn't really know Ryan that well but he didn't think he'd misjudged him so badly but if what the guard was saying was true then it was more than worrying to say the least.

"Can you do something for me." Sandy handed the guard one of his cards. "Can you get him to ring me… it's important."

"No problem sir." The guard took the card from his hand.

"Thanks, sorry I didn't catch your name…" Sandy held his hand out to the guard.

"McCray…Stan McCray." He smiled at Sandy as he took his hand in a firm grasp. " You seem like a good man but a word of advice from someone who's been in the game for a long time…maybe it's time to move on and concentrate on the kids who really can be helped and leave Atwood here where I think he belongs.

* * *

Ryan waited. He knew they'd be here soon. They came twice a day since he'd been forcefully manhandled out of the study block. 

Usually it was Pico and McCray but sometimes it was a couple of guards he vaguely recognised but he didn't know their names. Their brand of visitation didn't exactly warrant introductions.

He sat with his back against the wall staring at the thin strip of orange light that filtered underneath the heavy door. His eyes grew accustomed to the thick inky darkness of the cell so much so that he found himself painfully blinded once the door opened, something that wasn't lost on McCray and the guards and they used it to their full advantage.

As far as he could tell he was currently in what he knew from Trey's late night descriptions, was most probably a solitary cell. Starke was like a big fucking rat maze and was split into several different zones. Where exactly he was he couldn't say. Ryan hadn't been there long enough to get his bearings. All he knew was he'd been shoved up and down stairs, along corridors, unlocking and locking steel doors as they went.

The cell smelt of damp plaster and stale air. The finger of decay had definitely touched this part of the wing, it was certainly more run down than the main block. Maybe the state was holding out on the funding needed to fix it up or it could just be that he was seeing the place as it really was for the first time since his arrival.

There was no bed and no window in the cell but there was the obligatory porcelain toilet sat in the corner. The room was airless concrete box and the smell of stale sweat from his body was fast overtaking the general dankness. He seriously wanted nothing more than a hot shower and to breathe the sweet fresh air. His neck and back were certainly dreaming of a soft bed.

Ryan had counted two paces in each direction. He spent a lot of time pacing back and forth. He felt like a caged tiger he'd seen at a family trip to the zoo many years ago. He'd heard years later that they'd had to shoot it after it had ripped the arm off its keeper. He could relate.

And when he wasn't counting his steps he stared at the strip of light under the door as he tried to remember long forgotten poetry from the battered book that Theresa had given him years ago or song lyrics, dialog from films. Anything to keep his brain active and away from the darker things in life he'd shelved away and didn't want to revisit whilst locked in the dark place he found himself in.

What disturbed him most was the unnatural quiet. He'd finally gotten used to the constant noise that seeped it's way obtrusively into every corner of Juvie hall but here it was deathly silent, only the odd faint thud of the ancient piping, a muffled voice or the faraway clang of a door told him that he wasn't completely alone. The silence also gave him warning when McCray and his goons showed up. He could hear the heavy sounds their boots made on the metal gangways as they made their way towards him.

He'd long ago learnt to cope with the fear of confrontation from an enemy and somehow he was more prepared for it here, a sense of resigned calm had come over him, a calm that had never there when he was at home waiting for his dad or AJ to come home. When he thought about it, and he had plenty of time to do so over the past couple of days, he supposed it was because the guards didn't mean anything to him. He'd constantly worried about disappointing his father or causing his mom more stress but here he only had himself to worry about and that had somehow lifted the heavy fear off his shoulders. Okay, he didn't exactly look forward to McCray's visits but he wasn't filled with the same dread as he had as a child.

Ryan got up off the floor and started to pace again.

* * *

Dante stirred his coffee and chewed his cheek.

"Well he's definitely not around here or on D wing. I spoke to big Frank and he said that Ferris and the others were taken there but not Atwood. No one seems to have seen him since he was escorted of the study wing Dant. I've put the word out but so far nothing." Ronk picked at his bread roll, making little balls of dough, which he lined up like soldiers on the edge of his tray.

"Where the fuck have they taken him?" Silvio said without expecting an answer.

Ronk shrugged.

"I didn't think that McCray would make a move on him so soon." Dante ran his hand over the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders to ease the tension.

"Why does McCray have such a stick up his ass about Atwood. I know his brother riled him when he was here but shit, this is crazy." Silvio asked.

Wolf looked round before opening his mouth.

"I heard that McCray got jumped a couple of years ago, someone beat the crap out of him and left him tied up naked in the shower block….used magic marker and wrote over his face. McCray was out of it and when he came to he gave a statement saying that he hadn't seen who was, whoever had worn a balaclava or some shit. So when McCray eventually started to point the finger the Governor didn't act. Said that as he hadn't seen who it was there was no real proof." Wolf lent forward and said in a low voice. "Everyone knew it was Atwood's brother getting payback. He bragged about it enough. It really pissed McCray off that there was nothing he could do about it because Atwood's bro got paroled a week before McCray finished his sick leave."

"So he's taking it out on Atwood now." Ronk ruminated, lent back in his chair and eyed the guard that was walking around the tables as they were eating.

"Yeah but what can we do? McCray runs this place and he's got everyone brown tonguing him now more than ever." Spence pushed his tray away with a disgusted grunt. "God this food gets worse, that tasted like dog chow."

" Fuck, he can't have just disappeared. The guy was cool, I kind of got used to having him around." Wolf admitted.

"Don't worry, this isn't over. I'll sort it." Dante got up from the table, pushing his chair back with a nauseating scrape that sounded like nails running down a chalkboard. "I think it's about time someone broke McCray's reign."

* * *

Sandy sat in his car and looked down at the pile of graphic novels that Seth insisted he bring for Ryan. He opened the glove compartment and put them inside. He wasn't sure of what he'd tell Seth yet. Something didn't ring true, that was sure. No matter what the guard had implied.

And it worried him.

Two days ago a letter had arrived for his son. Seth had literally talked about nothing else since. It was all Ryan this and Ryan that. Sandy had calmed his wife's ruffled feathers telling her that Ryan had more integrity than most of the Newport trust fund babies put together. She initially wasn't too happy about the strange friendship that was burgeoning between the two teens but even she couldn't deny that Seth's confidence has risen tenfold since the letter.

Seth was happy.

And that is what Sandy couldn't understand. If Ryan was immersing himself into the gang culture within Stark then it seemed unlikely that he'd take the time out to send a long and warm letter to a stranger. Also from what Sandy had read, if anything Ryan had sounded lonely and he'd detailed a bleak synopsis of what life was like inside juvenile hall for Seth, it read like a stark warning against going off the rails. The tone of the letter was the one thing that had really swung his wife around to believing that Ryan really was different to how she'd imagined.

The letter just didn't say 'gang' or miscreant.

So what would make Ryan suddenly decide not to see him?

* * *

Waddell pulled his tie off and threw it in his locker. He'd spent most of his career turning a blind eye. Anything for an easy life was his motto but his supervisor was becoming a law unto himself.

McCray and what he was doing disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.

In his opinion many of the little bastards needed to be shown a firm hand. Most were animals that would stick a knife in your back as soon as look at you... but not all.

But as the years went by things were snowballing and the firm hand was fast becoming a sadistic one.

For the past three days he'd had to listen to McCray, Pico and Co bragging about what they were doing to Ryan to 'tame' him and frankly it sickened him.

From his conversations with Ryan he just didn't seem like the others. He didn't deserve it.

But he couldn't make waves. He had to stay focused on his pension.

He slammed his locker shut and picked up his jacket, his shift over for the day.

Ryan had counted one hundred and eight paces when the inevitable sound of the footsteps made him stop and look towards the thin shaft of light under the door.

It wasn't long before the feet blocked the light and cast shadows under the door.

His body involuntarily tensed and he backed against the wall at the sound of the key turning in the lock

**TBC**

**_ Reviews would be splended thanks...let me know if anyone is reading this._  
**


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Lock Down Beta: None as Melly-moo is off seeing the world.  
Disclaimer: I still don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie.  
Story: AU set in the first season. Due to showing loyalty to his brother Trey, Ryan finds himself sentenced to thirty six months in the harsh Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility.

* * *

**Lock Down**

Chapter 6

Dante lay on his bunk and smoked. The large pile of crumpled butts in the ashtray was a growing testament to his general unease. The cell seemed empty without Ryan which was strange considering that he'd spent most of his sentence violently protected his personal space by any means it took.

But then again Ryan was different from past cellmates.

He didn't constantly whine and moan. He didn't go on and on about the injustice of his sentence and he didn't yap for the sake of yapping. Ryan only spoke when he needed to and listened at the right times. He was also smart and had a wide knowledge that almost staggered him and for all his mainly quiet ways Ryan also had a bitch of a temper, their solitary chair had become victim to Ryan's ire more than once. The plywood was certainly looking a bit rickety owing to the sheer velocity of Ryan's throws against the wall. It made him laugh when Ryan lost it like that because the mood change was so quick. One minute he'd be all Hulk-like and swearing and the next he'd be sitting on his bunk happily smoking. It made Ryan seem less 'perfect' more fallible.

But it was their similar histories that made the big difference. Just knowing that someone had gone through the same shit was somehow cathartic.

No doubt about it. He'd actually liked sharing with Ryan.

Anyone on the outside would be calling him a fag for getting so uptight about a guy but after much research he'd found that Ryan _was_ one of the good guys, he didn't screw people over, he was loyal and he wasn't obsessed by money and materialistic shit and that was rare growing up in a crap hole like Chino.

Ryan had become one of the 'disappeared' far too quickly and Dante had been there long enough to know that it never ended well. He was somewhere at Starke but where the fuck was he and what were they doing to him?

He jumped down from the bunk and dumped the ashtray on the table. He went over to Ryan's shelf and took everything down. He knew that Ryan wasn't in contact with his family but maybe Ryan's brother would be a good place to start. There had to be something here that would help.

If he couldn't contact Trey then there was that Latino chick Ryan spoke to, if he could find a number then maybe he wouldn't have to resort to plan B.

He was putting off Plan B for now because it could end up killing him if it all went tits up. And as much as he liked Ryan he wasn't sure he was worth getting his throat cut for. All he had to go on was the desperate hope that McCray had pissed enough people off to want to do something about him and thus enable people to put old grievances behind them…. if only for a short while.

He shook out books and flicked through the graphic novels that had appeared in their cell. A pneumatic redhead was showing what she'd eaten for breakfast. He blinked several times and roared out loud with laughter. Shit it was no wonder Ryan hadn't been complaining about the condition commonly known as 'PBB'…prison blue balls. The little fucker had probably spent most of his days jerking off.

Dante sat down on Ryan's bunk and took a little time to flick through the porn magazine he didn't think Ryan would mind under the circumstances. He swallowed as he turned the pages, this was primo stuff, his dick definitely thought so. He pressed the heel of his hand against himself and turned the page. Whoa, kind of a dampener but bingo. He read the page and got up off the bed and paced as he rolled yet another cigarette. Okay, so Ryan had talked briefly about the lawyer and his kid. To be honest he hadn't given him much of a thought but after reading the letter maybe this was the link he was looking for. A PD would definitely hold some sway. He ripped out the letter from the book and folded it before putting it in his back pocket.

He felt better at having this new option open to him. He'd think about it overnight as to how he was going to play it, there was nothing he could do about it until the morning anyway. Right now he had more pressing things on his mind. He placed his smoke behind his ear and jumped up on his bunk. He picked up the magazine again and pulled open his jumpsuit, slipping his hand inside.

Yup, in the circumstances he really didn't think Ryan would mind sharing.

* * *

Waddell called out a loud goodbye to his wife who was upstairs getting ready for work. He picked up his lunch and slammed the door behind himself before turning and locking the door. The frame was warped and he'd been meaning to fix it for weeks now but he never seemed to have the inclination. All he wanted to do was relax in front of the TV with a cold beer when he wasn't on shift and had a free weekend. 

He sat behind the wheel of his car and re-tuned the radio to the talk station. His daughter borrowed the car most nights and irritatingly fiddled with the channels even though he told her on pain of death not too. Once apon a time he'd preferred rock music but now all his brain could cope with in the morning was the soothing and often banal chatter that came out of the battered speakers.

He pushed the seat back and checked the mirrors before buckling up.

He'd followed the same ritual for years but recently the drive to work had become increasingly hard.

* * *

Ryan shivered as he tried to sleep. He curled up into a tight ball to try and preserve what little body heat he had. He clamped his jaw shut to try and stop his teeth from chattering. His fingers were numb and he rubbed his hands together to try and get the circulation flowing again. 

He didn't think he'd ever been so cold.

He didn't know what the real time was anymore. Day or night…he didn't have a clue. By keeping him in the dark McCray was intentionally playing havoc with his perception of time and using his growing confusion to his full advantage.

And even though he was bone tired, the type of fatigue that made you feel sick to the stomach, he couldn't get back to sleep. The adrenalin had started to slowly ebb from his bloodstream but he knew that sleep wasn't going to come again anytime soon.

He had managed to fall asleep earlier when the door had flown open, waking him with a heart stopping start. It made him wonder if he was being watched because they had woken him up too many times for it to be a coincidence.

He'd tried to scramble up and brace himself but he hadn't had time to prepare himself before they turned the hose on him.

It wasn't like summers past when Theresa's mom had let them fool around, spraying each other, laughing as they cooled off in the back yard.

This was different.

You needed at least two men to hold the fire hose steady, usually McCray and Pico but not always and the force of this hose slammed him hard against the wall, pinning him there, bruising his flesh.

The frigid cold hit him and he couldn't catch his breath, couldn't breathe as the seemingly never-ending torrent of water pounded into him. When he did gasp, instead of much needed air all he got was the nauseating burn as he inhaled water deep into his lungs. He'd cough and choke, think he was going to die but McCray knew just how far to go and backed off just before he lost consciousness.

Their grinning faces were usually the last thing he saw before the coughing started as he fought to rid his lungs of water.

He didn't know how much more he could take. He was cold, hungry and he hurt. He was already way done with it after the first soaking had left him battered and bruised but unfortunately McCray seemed to have infinite capacity for this shit. McCray obviously got off on it and had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

Fuck. Why had he ever listened to Trey? He'd kill his brother…. if he ever got out of the place alive.

* * *

Sandy had spent a restless night trying to sleep. He'd given up at five am and made for the den. He'd mindlessly watched an old black and white creature feature before heading out for the surf. 

By the time he got to the office the espresso he'd brought whilst filling up his car started to thankfully work its magic.

"Hi Sandy. Judge Pickering rang about the Santiago case, wants you to ring as soon as you got in." His assistant grimaced and he smiled. The judge was not universally liked.

"Oh and you had a call from someone called…" She looked at the memo she held in her hand. "Alessandro Lorenz, inmate from Stark correctional. He wants to see you."

Sandy frowned.

"Who?"

"That was the message. 'he wants to see you.'…Didn't say anything else before putting the phone down on me."

Sandy pulled his tie down and unbuttoned his shirt.

"Could you find out who he is Sarah?"

"I'm on it boss."

She turned on her heel and disappeared out the door. He went over to his filing cabinet and ran down the file tags of clients past and present. No Lorenz, he was usually good with names but it meant nothing to him.

Less than ten minutes later his door opened and his assistant popped her head into the room.

"Sandy, Lorenz is apparently Ryan Atwood's cellmate. Ryan's your client right?"

Sandy took about two seconds to decide that he needed to see this kid, if only to ask questions to see if he knew why Ryan was refusing to see him.

"Get an order in. I want to see him ASAP."

He spoke more briskly than normal and added a polite 'please' before the door shut.

Why would Ryan's cellmate be contacting him?

What he did know was he wanted to find out why as soon as possible.

* * *

Ryan shut his eyes, and listened as the last of the water dripped down the small drain in the center of the cell, willing the sleep to come before the next time the door opened.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Lock Down**

Chapter 7

Dante had been unceremoniously pulled off his job working on the industrial steam press without a word and found himself being escorted into one of the formal interview rooms.

The guy who already sat at the desk had lawyer written all over him so that Dante knew who it was without having to be told.

He'd been surprised that Ryan's lawyer had moved so fast. That was encouraging. He sat down opposite the suited guy who studied him with serious eyes.

The guard asked if he was needed but the lawyer smiled and shook his head saying they'd be fine.

Again the lawyer impressed Dante. Most PD's would have wet their pants if left alone with a locked room with unknown con. Okay, a guard was within shouting distance but a lot of damage could happen in the fifteen seconds it took to unlock that door.

Dante lent back in his chair and folded his arms.

He'd give the guy five minutes, then he'd make up his mind as to whether he was worthy of his trust.

* * *

Sandy watched the kid sit down. He had the all the brash swagger of someone who'd lived through the tough years and wasn't intimidated anymore. He actually reminded him of the first time he'd met Ryan. The same piss and vinegar and obvious mistrust flashed in this kids eyes.

He'd seen many times before.

The kid openly studied him.

Sandy lent across the table.

"I'm Sandy Cohen… call me Sandy and I've got to say I'm more than a little intrigued by your call Mr. Lorenz."

After a pause the kid took his outstretched hand and shook. Damn the kid had a grip.

"It's Dante." He said gruffly.

"Dante?" Sandy looked down at his paperwork checking the name.

The kid gave him a slow smile. "I started a few fires as a kid."

"Ahhh, nice to know the classics are still being put to good use." Sandy smiled.

Dante gave a laugh. "Most people are complete dip-shits and don't get it."

"So are you here because of your fondness for fire?" Sandy raised an eyebrow.

"Naa, moved on from playing with matches when I hit my teens." Dante crossed his arms behind his head and rocked back in his chair. "But the name stuck…beats Alex huh."

"You don't want to know what my nickname was when I was a kid!" Sandy shook his head. There was something about Dante that he couldn't bring himself to dislike.

Sandy turned serious.

"I don't know why you contacted me but before we go on I've got to ask. Has this anything to do with Ryan?"

Dante face changed and grew guarded, he lent forward and shot a nervous look towards the door, he ran his hand over his mouth as turned back towards him and looked deep into Sandy's eyes.

Sandy held his gaze.

"What is it?" Sandy felt a deepening sense of foreboding.

"Ryan talked about you, said you've always treated him like he was a person and not just another con. Said you seemed to care for some reason. Why's that?"

Still Dante's eyes bored into him, Sandy thought, like he was trying to make a decision.

"I do care about what happens to Ryan, he's a good kid but for some reason he won't see me and I don't know why." Sandy replied simply.

Dante nodded and he seemed to have made up his mind.

"Not 'won't'….'can't'…"

"What does that mean?" Sandy frowned.

"It's not that Ryan won't see you, he can't." Dante shot another look towards the door. "No one's seen him in over a week."

"Where is he?" Sandy wanted answers and he wanted them now.

"Last we heard he was being dragged out of the study wing, some crap about him starting a riot. I've asked around but I can't find out where they've taken him."

Sandy knew that wasn't the full story.

"Tell me what's really bothering you because you didn't call me just to tell me that did you?"

Dante lent in closer.

"Starks hard Mr. Cohen but it way goes beyond keeping us in check. The guards fuck us over and no one gives a shit about regulations. I'm talking fucking brutality man for sport...especially if they know you've got no family to lodge a complaint. Just look at the suicide rate. It's way above the standard." Dante paused. "Not much different from most prisons right but I've been inside before and this is different. Something is seriously rotten here and Ryan's finding out just how rotten."

"Go on." Sandy swallowed.

"One of the guards has had it in for him since he got here. A guy called McCray and unfortunately he just about runs this place, all the other guards follow his lead, and even the ones that don't approve of what he does are too scared to do anything about him."

"McCray." Sandy narrowed his eyes. This was beginning to make sense. "That was the name of the guard who told me that Ryan was refusing to see me."

"Yeah, I bet he did. Look, Ryan had his all his telephone and visitation rights revoked the second day he was here for no good reason so it goes that McCray would want you out of the picture because I can't see any other reason why he wouldn't want to see you, quite frankly from how Ryan talked about you, he thinks the sun shines out of your ass." Dante stated.

"Why Ryan?" Sandy asked.

"Do you know Ryan's brother?" Dante pulled out his tobacco tin and rolled.

"Trey? What's he got to do with this?" Sandy hadn't smoked since he was twenty but he was tempted today as he watched Dante inhale deeply.

"Trey was in here a few years back…got under McCray's skin and now Ryan is getting the payback." Dante flicked the ash of the end of his cigarette.

"Why exactly are you telling me this?" Sandy asked. From what he could tell the kid didn't strike him as a public servant wanting to rid the world of corrupt government workers.

"I'm going to be honest with you, I just want the bastard taking down and I figure you can probably do just that." Dante picked a piece of stray tobacco off his lip as he stood up and called for the guard.

Sandy noticed that Dante change as the guard opened the door. The hard ass that had first walked into the room in was back.

"You fucking PD's are all the same…I ain't telling you jack shit. Hey…get me outta here" Dante spat the words out with venom just as the guard came into the room.

Sandy could tell a tactical bluff when he saw one. Dante was very obviously covering his ass and Sandy couldn't help but stare at the guard, wondering if he was part of what was happening to Ryan. As Dante passed behind he lent down and whispered in Sandy's ear.

"Plus I kinda like having Ryan around."

Sandy turned in his chair and caught the wink that Dante gave as he straightened up.

* * *

Dante ignored the enquiring looks and questions he got from the other cons when he returned to the laundry. He picked up a sheet and folded it before lowering the steam press down hard. A plume of heat hit him in the face and he coughed. He caught the eye of Ronk across the room through the haze of steam. He gave a barely unperceivable nod. Ronk went back to folding jumpsuits.

Dante threw the pressed hot sheet in a canvas trolley and picked up another sheet.

He never had much faith in people, maybe now was the time to change.

* * *

"I want to see the governor right now." Sandy had had enough of the assistant's polite, tight assed refusals. "If I don't get an immediate appointment then you can bet I'm going to go straight to the press about this facilities policies regarding what I see as blatant withholding of legal council from its inmates."

Sandy heard heavy breathing down the phone line before a meek voice told him that she'd ring right back.

Sandy picked up a stress ball from his desk and squeezed…hard.

The governor looked over the top of his glasses and sighed.

"I don't like having things like this landing in my lap. Sandy Cohen is respected in his field and I don't like having him banging my desk shouting about lawsuits and his client's rights. Is there any truth in the matter?"

"No sir. Atwood is out of circulation due to his antisocial behavior and is being held in solitary for his own safety. He violently resisted being restrained after the incident in the study block. Officer Pico was injured. It's been written up in the incident book if you care to check." McCray explained. "Sir, you know what PD's are like, they think their clients are angels. This kid's been trouble since he arrived here. We can't be held responsible if a con gets contrary and refuses to see his lawyer can we?"

The governor looked at his employee with distaste.

"Sort this out McCray. I mean it. Have Mr. Atwood ready to see his lawyer at four and no excuses. If I have Sandy Cohen breathing down my neck again then believe me it'll be your neck on the line. Got that. Close the door on your way out."

* * *

McCray lent against the wall. He'd thought he'd seen the last of the PD yesterday. He felt anxious sweat leech through the pits of his shirt.

Fucking Atwood.

Trust him to have a bleeding heart for a lawyer.

Now he was in the shit big time.

He pushed himself off the wall and took a deep breath. Time to find Pico and go and persuade Atwood to keep his mouth shut.

* * *

Waddell watched Pico and McCray make their way down the corridor. He guessed they were making their way over to the 'riot cells'. They'd been given the name because of the easy access to the facilities old riot hoses.

Being hosed down with the powerful apparatus used to be a harsh penalty only used on the most unruly and violent of offenders.

As a punishment it had been phased out, legislation dictated it was too dangerous and barbaric punishment to inflict on inmates in the liberal twenty-first centaury.

Waddell believed it was the right move but legislation didn't stop McCray.

Nothing could stop McCray it seemed.

* * *

Ryan dropped to the ground as McCray's fist slammed hard into his stomach for the second time.

He gasped and clutched his gut, shutting his eyes against the pain.

If he'd had a full stomach he'd have thrown up but the dry roll and weak luke warm coffee he'd had for breakfast had long since been digested.

He'd been marched to the shower block and whilst Pico stood watch McCray had 'talked' to him and let him know his 'options'.

The way Ryan saw it… he didn't have any.

"Now get washed up and changed into a clean jumpsuit. You fucking stink." McCray threw a clean set of clothes down on the floor next to him.

McCray watched as he slowly pulled himself up. He gingerly straightened out and breathed through the cramps in his stomach, as he got undressed. McCray was right he did stink but that wasn't exactly his fault.

He ignored the eyes on him as he turned on the shower and stood under the gradually warming stream. Someone had left a bottle of shampoo on the tiled ledge and he had no qualms about using it. He scrubbed his body and hair with the soap. He felt almost orgasmic relief as the heady scent of lemons eradicated the smell of stale sweat. He even used the liquid on his finger to rub at his teeth. It tasted absolutely foul but at least his mouth also felt less 'gummy', he could live with himself now.

Ryan let the water run over his body and the heat gradually eased the ache in his bones and muscles but it did nothing to sooth his unease.

He shut his eyes again and thought about McCray's ominous words, if he opened his mouth to anyone about the beatings, lack of food and the hose. He felt sick to the stomach. He had no doubt that McCray could and would follow though with his threats.

The guy was a psycho.

"Hey queer, stop primping and finish up now." McCray barked at him and he reluctantly shut off the shower and dried himself. He quickly dressed and stood in front of McCray.

"Lets get going and remember…think long and hard if you're thinking about opening your heart to the fucking lawyer. What I said is not a threat…it's a very real promise." McCray poked Ryan's chest hard.

It was all Ryan could do not to shove back.

He had to keep calm.

He also had no choice but to tell Sandy to leave him alone. Forget the appeal…forget everything.

McCray had him by the balls and there was nothing he could do.

Once again his brother was fucking things up for him but as much as he was pissed at Trey, McCray's threats scared the shit out of him. He fully believed that an accident could be arranged.

After less than two weeks inside he was fully aware that no one really gave a shit as to what happened inside.

A dead con was just another statistic but there was no way he was going to be the one responsible for Trey's death.

What also worried Ryan was the very real suspicion that McCray and Co would only get worse now that they had a hold over him.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Lock Down  
**Beta:** brandywine421...yay!  
**Disclaimer:** I still don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie. Fuck!  
**Story: **AU set in the first season. Due to showing loyalty to his brother Trey, Ryan finds himself sentenced to thirty six months in the harsh Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility. It's all fiction.

melanie39 wanted to know after reading this fic, if I'd been inside a juvenile correction facility...laughs...no flist, no deep dark secrets...I just spent my school days in the English boarding/public school system...it's close! ;)

**Lock Down**

Chapter 8

Sandy toyed with his angel hair pasta as his son talked about his day. If he'd been listening, he would have heard Seth talking about yet another ruined pair of shoes and a wedgie burn. It wasn't a new tale and as much as Sandy hated the fact that his son was bullied he was happy that Seth didn't let it get to him. He seemed to erect a protective bubble around himself made of sarcasm and breezy jocularity so tough that the spite of the trust fund babies couldn't penetrate through. Sandy's mind was unfortunately elsewhere so he left his wife on support detail as he thought…and messed with his food.

_"Mr Cohen…Just leave me the fuck alone..."_

It wasn't the tone of the words that had Sandy worried Ryan was like an actor saying lines but it was the raw look of tiredness and defeat behind Ryan's eyes. It was the same look he saw the first time they'd met and it was a look that Sandy had hoped he'd never see again.

And he couldn't understand why he was seeing it now.

The fact that Ryan had showed up gave him hope but the two excruciating and brief minutes that followed wiped that feeling clean away.

Ryan had started out frosty but the kid he'd come to know and like had grown defensive and downright rude. Ryan had sat with his arms folded across his chest and he wouldn't or couldn't seem to meet his eyes no matter what Sandy said to get to the bottom of it all.

Essentially the kid fired him.

It was the first time.

And it hurt.

Ryan had walked out before he could even question him about his cellmate's accusations.

No con gave up on an appeal, especially when he had a good chance of getting out.

Sandy had been around the system long enough to know when something smelled off and whatever was going on at Starke stunk to high heaven. Sandy couldn't put his finger on it. The governor and the guards he'd dealt with were polite to a fault when he re-appeared for his prearranged meeting with Ryan and that in itself reeked. Awkward PD's were the bane to a correctional facilities' life where most thought that the prisoners deserved all they got; he'd gotten used to the frosty treatment usually afforded to his profession. So the obsequious behaviour triggered Sandy's radar.

His son grabbing the last slice of garlic bread off the plate in front of his vision shook him away from his thoughts. Sandy pushed his plate away and smiled at his wife, she was looking at him inquisitively, obviously worried that he'd been too quiet this mealtime. He started to clear the table. He'd spend some time with Seth before he made some calls.

One thing that irritated people about him was the fact he was so tenacious. This wasn't over and he'd see it through whether Ryan wanted it or not.

* * *

Waddell stood outside the cell and looked through the metal hatch. He saw Ryan leaning over the sink splashing water over his face. The kid then pulled up the tee he was wearing and twisted around to look at his back. From where he stood Waddell could see the livid bruises over his kidneys and along the bony curve of his spine. Yellow, purple and red merged in a colourful display like a Pollock canvas. It made him feel sick.

He quietly shut the flap over the opening in the door.

His father had always said that you could tell a real man not by his words but by his actions. Waddell's father was a long time dead but the pride he felt was still sharp when he thought about his father, a beat cop who lived like each day was a personal mission to put the worlds to rights.

Waddell knew he had some serious choices to make. Tonight he'd head towards the bar at the end of his street, maybe Jim Beam would help ease his nagging conscience and make him locate his balls again after years spent in a sedentary life.

* * *

When Dante got back to his cell after his work shift was over the last thing he expected to find Ryan laying on his bunk.

"Hey." His greeting hid his true feelings at having his roomie back.

"Hey." Ryan nodded as he exhaled a thin stream of smoke out his nostrils.

Dante studied Ryan for a moment.

"Fuck…you look like shit man."

"Gee thanks." Ryan snorted.

"Seriously, you look like ten pounds of crap in a five pound bag…. where the hell were you? We asked around but you vanished, man." Dante reached over to tap knuckles with Ryan. "Missed having you around…the chair got a little uppity in your absence." He quipped alluding to Ryan's violence towards the innocent chair.

Dante pulled the now rickety chair away from the wall and turned it so he could sit and rest his arms on the back.

"So what happened…where'd they take you?"

"Don't know…riot cells." Ryan said simply.

"Atwood, you've gotta work on that verbal diarrhea problem you've got." Dante shook his head and laughed.

Ryan grinned.

"Not much to say…solitary is solitary. McCray's showing me whose boss that's all." Ryan lent back and put his hands behind his neck. Dante would have believed him if Ryan hadn't winced at the movement.

"But that's not all, right. That ugly little bulging muscle in your jaw's telling me you're pissed about something." Dante lent forward. "Atwood, McCray's off the rails…you know it…I'm guessing he beat the shit out of you because he could and because he gets off on it. We've all been there and I think it's time we take him down bro….go postal on his ass."

"Dante…I…." Ryan sighed and looked slightly embarrassed. "I just want to serve my time and not make waves. I've been here for less than two weeks and already I'm on the shit list…I really want a quiet life man."

Dante expected to see fire in Ryan's eyes instead he got all the anticlimax of a damp squib. He hadn't expected Ryan to take it lying down and back off.

"What the fuck? Atwood I didn't have you pegged as a pussy." Dante knew it was a cheap shot but he was kind of pissed. They'd all been worried about the fucker and now he was back he'd totally lost his balls…this passive guy was not the same guy who regularly kicked the metal door of their cell in frustration, this was not the guy who put his mattress against the wall to use as an impromptu punch bag. "I thought you'd be with us on taking McCray down…especially after what he's done. Payback…Atwood…its payback."

Ryan sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. "Dante…I'm serious. I can't make waves, believe me I'd love to get even but I just don't want to get involved, okay?"

Dante stared at Ryan while he rolled a cigarette. He wasn't good at reading him but he could tell that something bad was lurking behind the poker face. He licked the paper and put the thin smoke in his mouth.

"Tell me…what's that fucker's got over you?" He asked quietly as he lit.

Ryan's head shot up and he looked surprised.

"I may look dumb but I'm not stupid. McCray likes his mind games. Usually he uses Pinkie but I've got a feeling that it isn't the treat of sharing a cell with the big rampant queen that's got you so rattled…so what is it?"

Ryan quietly rolled his own cigarette and only spoke when he'd lit it.

"You know the second day I was here and you told me McCray had got away with murder. How much of that is just bullshit talk?" Ryan inhaled heavily. "I mean…is he really capable you think?"

Dante frowned.

"I don't know man…you hear things. Cons have died and no one really knows how or who…there's just the talk that McCray's involved. Who knows if it's just the whole bogeyman thing but honestly…I think there's no smoke without fire. I think the fucker's capable and who'd question it? A guy is found with a shiv in his neck and who's going to question a guard when there's about a thousand viable suspects?"

Ryan nodded and shut his eyes.

"Yeah…that's what I thought too." Ryan opened his eyes and stared over at the wall opposite. "I've got to drop my appeal and dump my PA. My lawyers been asking questions and I think its got McCray uptight. He knows he'll be out on his ass if it's leaked that he's using the hose on us, and contravening about a million other codes. My brother is the only family I've got now moms gone…He may be a dick sometimes but he's my brother and I couldn't live with myself, man, if anything happened to him McCray said he can get to him and maybe he's just blowing it out of his ass but I can't risk it, can I?"

Ryan grabbed the wire under the mattress above him with both hands, the cigarette hanging loose in his mouth as he spoke.

"My brother's always been there for me …protected me. He took beatings that were meant for me more times than I can remember, that's why I took the coke rap because it was something I could actually do to pay him back some."

Dante felt a flush of heat creep up the back of his neck.

Shit.

Okay so he'd screwed up, big time. He'd jumped in with both feet first and now…well…now he'd set in motion god knows what. He knew he should have gone with his initial plan of approaching Napoleon and Alverez in the hope that their mutual hatred of McCray would maybe enable all the warring faction to put feuds behind them but he'd gone with the easy option, the one that didn't involve a knife in the kidneys for even asking.

Fuck.

"So when are you going to see this lawyer?" Dante asked hoping that Ryan couldn't see the sneaky look behind his eyes as he frantically figured how to avoid having to admit to anything.

"I saw him this morning… he's history." Ryan swung his legs back up on the bunk and lay down again.

"Just like that." Dante looked down at his hand and nonchalantly started to pick at his fingernails.

"Yeah. I made him think I'm a total asshole. Didn't give him any time to argue. He's a nice guy but I don't think he'll wast anymore time on me after the way I spoke to him." Ryan rolled on his stomach and reached for the ashtray on the floor. "Shit happens … I've just got to put up with McCray and hope that the guy's not as much of a psycho as we think."

Dante kept quiet.

Maybe Ryan was right and the lawyer wouldn't do anything. Hell, Ryan was just one of many cons he had on his books…he'd probably forget about him in a week and move onto the next bleeding heart that he'd use to make him feel good about himself.

"Enough of that…I've had too many hours thinking of this shit. So how's Ronk…still insane?" Ryan grinned.

* * *

Sandy put the phone down and picked up the glass of whiskey that sat in front of him. He swirled the amber liquid before taking a gulp. He'd just spoken to the head of education at Starke. He'd finally managed to get her to open up after many gentle reassurances as she'd been terrified of what traditionally happens to whistleblowers and had just heard from her lips what happened the day Ryan had caused the so-called riot in the Ed block. It differed from the version that he'd heard from the governor and the guard…. worryingly different.

It sounded like the Ryan he'd come to know and not the fake hard-ass of the morning.

The woman was cagy when probed for further information but it was obvious she wanted to help in a way that wouldn't cost her career. She'd given him a name of someone who might be able to assist further.

Sandy put down the glass and picked up the phone.

* * *

McCray ignored Ryan the next day and the day after that but the sly smile the guard gave him whenever they crossed paths made Ryan more nervous than all the snide remarks and beatings put together.

**TBC**

**Sorry it's been a long time coming. Thanks for all the prods from people wanting more. Nice to know that you are enjoying it.  
**


	9. Chapter 9

Lock Down

Chapter 9

**Title:**Lock Down  **  
Chapter:** 9   
**Beta:**Nada **  
Disclaimer:** I still don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie.  **Story:**AU set in the first season. Due to showing loyalty to his brother Trey, Ryan finds himself sentenced to thirty six months in the harsh Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility. It's all fiction.    

**Lock Down**

Chapter 9

McCray tossed his half eaten tuna on rye in the trashcan and took a huge gulp out of his can of soda. He let out a prolonged burp and grinned at Pico's look of admiration.

"I think it's time again and I think Atwood is a perfect candidate." He said as he wiped his fingers on a paper napkin.

Pico looked worried.

"I don't know, hasn't he got us in enough shit with that damn PD sniffing around, the governor's been breathing down our necks too. Maybe we should knock it on the head for a while until things have calmed down."

McCray lent back in his chair and grinned the self-satisfied smile of someone who thinks their untouchable.

"That PD's long gone. Heard Atwood myself telling him to bug out. Did a good job, Mr 'high and mighty' lawyer looked pissed about it too. Trust me, the kid has no one batting for him now and plus we have added security since I put the wind up him over his brother… he ain't gonna say squat to nobody and after a few rounds of golf the governor will have forgotten about Atwood."

"I still don't know, I've got a bad feeling about him. Can't we use someone else? The new kid on D wing looks good for it." Pico suggested.

McCray shook his head. "Atwood is a far better prospect, he's got a tenacious streak a mile wide, we couldn't break him with the hose could we? We'll make lots of money off his back."

Pico picked up his donut and chewed slowly, he used the greaseproof paper it was wrapped in like a plate to catch the sugar as it dropped. He licked at a blob of jelly as it made its way towards his wrist. His wife was bitching about a weekend away maybe Atwood would provide that.

* * *

Sandy sat in his car and tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. He swore to himself several times. He'd been waiting for over an hour parked outside the small stucco bungalow. He gave a weary headshake, sighed and reached for the key in the ignition. He was already signalling to turn right at the end of the street when a battered ford pulled up outside the house and onto the drive. Had he looked in the rear-view mirror he would have seen Waddell slam his car door and walk unsteadily towards the front door.

* * *

Ryan was carefully deconstructing an old cigarette packet to relieve the boredom he was feeling. He slid his fingernail under the glue of each fold and gently peeled away, once done he'd then refold it back into its original shape but with one subtle difference… it would be inside out. Ryan was thinking of writing a book listing a thousand ways things you could do to stop yourself going crazy whilst inside. He's already sectioned each day into little slices of time, each taken up with an activity, eating, exercise, sleep, reading and jerking off. He was now on arts and crafts portion of the day. Yesterday he'd made a small dog out of papier-mâché; several pages of sports illustrated and spit had made a pretty good rendition of a humped-backed shit-hound. 

Ryan swore as he tore the flimsy cardboard slightly. Dante should be finishing his afternoon shift in the laundry in about twenty minutes so he'd better get motoring on his fabulous inside-out smoke packet or he'd flunk his self imposed art 101 class.

He was so engrossed in getting the folds just right that he didn't notice the key turn in the door. He didn't bother looking up as he expected to see Dante. So when he heard McCray's voice he almost jumped six feet in the air.

"On your feet Atwood."

He dropped the packet on the floor and stood to attention. McCray had an enigmatic smile on his face that made Ryan more nervous than if he'd just had a shit-eating grin plastered across his cheeks. The skinny fucker Pico stood behind him, hovering nervously like Sméagol.

"Hands behind your back and face the wall." McCray ordered.

Ryan put his forehead against the plaster wall of the cell and clasped his hands behind his back without even asking what he'd done or where they were taking him. He'd been waiting for something like this to happen for days. Things had been way too quite and Ryan wasn't the kind of person who believed in miracles. Pico clipped the cuffs tightly on his wrists and ranked him towards the door.

Again they frogmarched him down the corridor like they had after the so called 'study block riot'… a cosy little trip down memory lane but this time he wasn't a new fish, people knew him and knew that McCray had a hard-on for him. Faces appeared at the little windows in the doors as they passed.

'_Yo Atwood…you been stealing candy from the store again.'_

'_Hang tight bro.'_

'_Pico's got a new boyfriend.'_

'_Shit boy, trouble follows you don't it.'_

Catcalls and the sound of fists against the heavy metal doors serenaded his walk. Shouts and hollering grew deafening as McCray used his nightstick to bang on the doors as he shouted at everyone to be quiet. As McCray opened one of the security doors they passed the work detail coming the other way. Ryan slid his eyes sideways as he passed Dante, they locked their gaze for a second before Pico shoved Ryan hard in the back.

"Where you taking him, what's he supposed to have done_ this_ time?" Dante pushed forward and got into McCray's face.

"Stand down unless you want solitary." McCray yelled, spittle flying out of his mouth.

"What if I don't want to 'stand down'?" Dante tilted his head.

McCray stepped back and raised his nightstick, in one swift motion he brought it down hard on Dante's shoulder. Ryan watched as Dante went down. The shouts from inside the cells intensified.

"I said shut the fuck up." McCray bellowed as he spun around. "Get these men back to their cells…_now_." He ordered the guards as he grabbed Ryan elbow and propelled both him and Pico through the security door.

'_McCray you fucker…trust me…one day you're gonna burn._' Ryan heard Dante yell as the door slammed shut.

* * *

Seth tapped the pen against his teeth as he stared at the far wall. Okay, so Ryan hadn't replied to his last two letters and that was perplexing. It was also more than a little worrying. He'd asked his dad if everything was okay and his father had said that it was but as an only child he'd learnt to read 'the eyebrows'. This time the crazy tilt of them said that he was lying and that meant that Ryan was not okay. So he was officially as worried. 

It had been great hearing from Ryan. He was cool and sarcastic and he was also tough…. Well, it stood to reason you had to be if you were in prison, right. Just the thought of having an actual 'tough' friend made all the peeing in the shoes more bearable because he could fantasize about the time when Ryan got out and Seth could produce his ex-con friend, a friend who'd make the pussy jocks piss their pants.

So Ryan wouldn't or couldn't write back but that wouldn't stop him from still sending letters. Oh no. Ryan was the best thing to happen to him for ages, Ryan was one of the cool ones and didn't seem to care that he was a geek…and there was no way he was letting him slip away.

* * *

Ryan found himself dumped back into solitary. They left him alone so far, he'd sat in the dark, on the floor for what he thought was a couple of hours and all was silent. He wondered if he'd be getting the hose treatment again, it didn't seem so bad now that he knew what was coming. 

He was already braced against the water when the door opened but none came. Instead he was ordered out of the cell. McCray and Pico were waiting outside along with a couple of guards he hadn't seen before. Again he was marched along, this time to the shower block. It smelt of recent bodies and shampoo, damp and lavatory cakes. There were more guards stood in little groups around the tiled walls, some in uniform some in street clothes and they all turned as they entered. Ryan had a bad feeling about this, a really, really bad feeling. He swallowed hard.

Looking up at the moon through the skylight in the ceiling Ryan realized that it was a hell of a lot later than he'd first thought through the magic of solitary and the place had that eerie deserted silence about it.

The guards flocked around and stared at him as if they were sizing him up, one of them went so far as to grab at his arm and squeezed.

"He's bigger…more stocky by far. Strip down to your waist." He ordered.

What the fuck?

McCray prodded him. So he undid his jumpsuit and tied the arms around his waist.

"You a good fighter kid?" Someone else asked from across the room.

"Answer him Atwood." McCray barked.

"I'm okay... I guess." He answered tentatively.

That seemed to annoy a lot of folks, they started to mutter amongst themselves and shake their heads. McCray's face looked like thunder and that was not a good thing. Ryan suddenly had a good idea where this was going and he'd definitely said the wrong thing if he was right.

"I've got a powerful right hook and I can take a lot of hits before I go down." He tried to sound more confident than he felt.

McCray looked happier with that answer even if he'd been lying.

In reality he usually went down like a stone but what made him a pain in the ass as an opponent, was he didn't know when to quit. If he went down he made damn sure he'd get back up again until he quite literally couldn't. It was the only tactic he had when up against his mom's much larger boyfriends growing up. He felt victory in knowing that if his punches were ineffectual then at least he tired them out.

He was so tired of this macho shit. There was a huge difference between having to punch someone in defence and enjoying the experience. Ryan wasn't a natural fighter at all. He didn't like fighting but he figured that what he wanted didn't come into it now. He noticed that money had started to change hands and notebooks were being scribbled in. This was a sporting event and he was firmly in the ring.

Fuck, either way he was screwed. If he won then he'd probably get the crap kicked further out of him by the guards who lost money and if he won then McCray would have him fighting again and again as his own private cash cow.

Great. One again he silently cursed his brother.

Ryan was just thinking that things couldn't get any worse for him when the door opened and he saw who he'd be fighting.

Ryan thought back to Dante's warning the first day in the dining hall.

Alverez.

Dante's number one enemy he'd learnt from that little pep talk.

And the lithe and dangerous Latino strutted into the shower block with all the swagger of a champion. He was already stripped to the waist and his brows were slathered with Vaseline. Okay, so _Alverez_ obviously hadn't been tugged off his bed with no warning.

Fucking brilliant.

Ryan figured that his parents must have sold his soul to the devil for a bottle of Jack or a blunt or maybe they'd really ticked off a whole family of gypsies for him to have the amount of bad luck dogging him throughout his short life. And it _would_ be short because he was going to get the shit beaten out of him the way Alverez was warming up. He was bouncing from foot to foot and jabbing the air with each fist.

This guy clearly knew how to box.

Alverez stopped showing off long enough to square his shoulders and gave him a pursed mouthed glare.

Ryan stood up straight and took a deep breath. He kept his gaze steady and refused to look away from Alverez even though he wanted nothing more than to rush into one of the open cubicles and throw up.

McCray grinned and turned away. He called Pico over and they started to talk odds with the other guards.

It didn't take much eavesdropping to know he was being pegged as the rank underdog.

* * *

Sandy sat with his son and raced a space age car around a futuristic track. For the fifth time in a row he totalled his car. 

"You suck at this." Seth crowed.

"Some of us Cohen's use our opposable thumbs for greater purposes." Sandy laughed.

"Oh dad, I've got another letter for Ryan. You'll be seeing him again soon right?" Seth said as he loaded another game.

"You like Ryan huh." Sandy asked nonchalantly.

"Hell yeah, he's not a pod person like everyone around here!" Seth snarked. He was silent for a while before he turned and looked Sandy in the eye. "Seriously, he's the only person I've met who I feel could be real friend, he's interested in what I say no matter how stupid it may be and I don't know if you've noticed but I've never exactly been awash with people lining up to friend me."

Sandy put down his controller and clasped his son on the shoulder.

"Save the game. I've got something I need to do right now."

* * *

When Sandy pulled up outside the stucco bungalow this time he saw that the lights were on in the porch. He locked his car and walked up the drive. 

The front door finally opened on the fifth knock.

"Yes." The voice was slightly slurred and the smell of liquor hit Sandy like a brick wall.

"Mr Waddell, my name is Sandy Cohen. I'm a public defender with the state of California. I represent an inmate I think you know, a young man by the name of Ryan Atwood. Your name was given to me as someone who might be able to help with a few concerns I have about Starke."

Sandy was sure he saw relief flit across his face. Waddell shut his eyes briefly then moved aside to let him in.

"You'd better come in." He said.

**TBC**

** R R people. :)  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: **Lock Dow**n**

**Rating:** NC17 for my pottymouth and some situations.

**Beta: ****mel39**!! clings but I did fiddle after she checked. :)

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie.

**Story: **AU set in the first season. Due to showing loyalty to his brother Trey, Ryan finds himself sentenced to thirty six months in the harsh Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility. It's all fiction.

Still for the lovely **maudgonne** but also dedicated to **silverweave**, **elzed** and **jassylou**.

* * *

**Lock Down**

Chapter 10

It had taken Sandy a long time to get the guard to open up but once he'd started it was like the flood gates had opened. Sandy tried not to rush him and let Waddell go at his own pace even though he wanted to just shake him and tell him to get to the point.

"Some of the kids respond to a kind word and rehabilitation but pretty much all are on the path to damnation no matter what we try to teach them. I mean, some of them would sell their own grandmothers if they could get away with it, most have probably been involved in gang killings before they even finished grade school and believe me, firmness is needed if you want to keep control in a place like Starke."

He paused briefly before continuing.

"Trouble is, it's got out of hand now, Mr. Cohen. It's been going on for years but when Bob McCray transferred from North things changed. It's not about keeping order or getting respect anymore. Some of the guards are just plain sadistic simply because they can be and it's gotten worse each year they get away with it. I should have done something sooner but I guess I'm just chicken-shit. Let's face it, this country doesn't have a great tradition when it comes to whistle blowing and I've got a pension to think about."

Waddell took a gulp from his glass and refilled from the bottle of Wild Turkey. Sandy listened in silence as Waddell talked. The man was a bag of nerves but so far all he had was that some of the guards were asserting their authority a little too much and to most of middle America that would be applauded.

Sandy leant forward and urged him to continue.

" I'll keep your name out of this if I can, I promise you, but I need more to go on."

Waddell rolled the glass between his palms silently before nodding.

"They beat the kids for no reason. And I mean beat. They make up allegations of assaults that add on time to sentences just for kicks and although I can't prove it I think some of the inmate deaths we've had are not what they seem to be."

Sandy's head shot up at that.

"Someone is killing these kids?"

Waddell swallowed.

"I think at least four of the NDR's…"

"NDR's?"

"Sorry, non-drug related deaths we've had over the past five years have been suspect. Oh they were put down as suicides and gang hits in the reviews and, as I say, I can't prove it but I think McCray and several of the other guards are involved."

"You've got to give me more than that…" Sandy was getting frustrated. He was also getting scared and was hoping deep down that this guy was a fantasist but his instinct told him he needed to worry.

"Each of the deaths has corresponded with the late night fights."

"Fights?" Sandy frowned.

"McCray, he arranges fights between the inmates and everyone bets on the outcome...big bucks changes hands, I mean big. It's like fight club, no rules and anything goes. I went to one event a few years ago and it's brutal...seriously brutal. The kids were half dead by the end. They _encourage_ them to continue until they drop. They hold it every few months and McCray handpicks all the fighters himself. They have no choice in the matter. It's a case of do it or they'll make your life more of a misery than it already is."

Waddell paused and looked Sandy in the eye.

"And what about the deaths?" Sandy prompted.

"As I said the kids fight until they can't, things get out of hand and no one steps in until it's too late, I think then the kids are just dumped in the shower block and get written up as gang hits. I heard rumors that a couple refused to fight and threatened to tell the authorities, next thing you know we find them in their cell hanging from a knotted blanket."

Waddell drained his glass again with his hand shaking.

"I should have said something sooner…I should have."

Sandy stood up and wiped a hand across his face. He took a deep breath and asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since he'd first entered the house.

"What has all this got to do with Ryan?"

"As I said, McCray picks the fighters. He chooses kids who look like they'll be good value in the ring so to speak, kids with nothing to lose, no families, disposable if anything happens to them. Ryan stood out from the start. He looked like he could handle himself. McCray tested him and found he wasn't a quitter. Plus, as I said, he was perfect on paper, he was made for the fight. He was on his own, no one except a deadbeat brother inside for a long stretch…that was until you started to poke around. McCray made Ryan tell you to back off. I heard he threatened to get to the kid's brother if he didn't co-operate. I think he thought you would drop it and that would be that but clearly he was wrong, thank God...he's a good kid...one of the good ones."

"Have they made Ryan fight yet?" Sandy hurridly asked. He looked longingly at the whiskey. At least this explained why Ryan had pulled back from him and had stopped writing to Seth.

Waddell hung his head.

"Tonight, just after the shift change at two a.m."

* * *

Dante sat on his bunk and listened to the sounds of the prison. Usually it was quiet at this time of night but tonight there was a buzz about the place, a hum that crept through the walls and into the very fabric of the place.

Word was spreading fast and if Spence and Ronk did their job well then it would most definitely be on.

He still couldn't quite believe Napoleon had granted a meeting, considering their history. He could believe less when the big Rasta, after much persuading, actually agreed to set things up. Maybe it was more a reflection on how much the guards were hated than his negotiating skills but who cared?

The meeting in the shower block had been more than a little fraught, even with Ronk, Wolf, Spence and Silvio backing him up. Napoleon's crew also gathered, ready to kick off if needed. The other inmates sloped away, sensing that something big was going to go down.

Napoleon had stood with a bored expression on his face. It had been hard to read really what was going on behind those eyes but Dante had listed McCray and Pico's many crimes and had said that no matter what they all thought of each other they couldn't let them get away with it any longer. Thankfully Napoleon had agreed.

Dante had been fully aware that things could have gone badly but he also realized that the time had come for action. McCray was fucking insane and with Ryan being tugged again so soon he knew he'd had to act even if it meant confronting Napoleon, the top dog of Starke, and someone as equally crazy as McCray. It went a little way to salving his conscience where Ryan was concerned. Dante just hoped his meeting with the PD hadn't totally screwed things up too much. The lawyer had that spark of zeal in his eyes that said he was a tenacious bastard and Dante knew that he'd dig and dig until he got answers. Normally that would have been a good thing but that was before Ryan dropped the zinger about his brother being used as collateral and the way Ryan talked about his bro, if anything happened to him than Dante would feel the full force of guilt.

Dante lit another cigarette and tapped his feet against the floor. He was so keyed up he had the jitters big time but for the first time in months he felt alive. He checked his watch again. The time was here.

Spence and Ronk were up.

And the shit would hit the fan….big time.

Starke was going under.

* * *

James Hopkins smoothed down the front of his uniform and took a deep breath. It was his third week on the job. He'd come fresh from the social work sector with hopes and dreams of changing the system from within. He'd be inspirational; he certainly wouldn't treat the prisoners like some of the guards did. All they needed was someone who understood that rehabilitation was achievable. So what if the other guards treated him with contempt when he spoke of his ideas? Handover was the usual round of sarcastic comments and some bright spark had come up with the nickname of 'Charles Ingalls' for him. That hurt but he'd just given a tight smile and not let them get to him. Treat the prisoners with respect and they'd grow as people and realize that crime didn't pay. He'd show them all.

He checked the bunch of keys at his waist and set off to do his rounds.

He got halfway when a loud banging from the next floor reached him.

A voice shouted for help and he started to run. Other people had also started to yell and holler and it was difficult to work out where the original plea had come from. He stood outside the cell that seemed to be the one that the real cries for help were coming from and slid back the little window. A wild-eyed, panicked face appeared.

"Spence is fucking dying, man…help him, man"

The face moved away and he saw a kid lying on the floor shaking and jerking like he'd been possessed. Froth smeared his face and his head kept connecting with the concrete floor with each lurch.

He knew he should get help. It was against the rules to enter a cell on your own this time of the morning but the kid needed help.

He quickly grabbed his keys and opened the door.

The minute he stepped across the threshold he knew he was in trouble. The kid on the floor stopped jerking and sat up, wiping the back of his hand across his face to remove the white froth. He could smell the mint from the toothpaste from where he stood.

He spun around as the door shut behind him and the kid that'd been shouting for help grinned down at him.

"Oh …big mistake Newbie…. _biiiiig_ fucking mistake."

* * *

Ryan breathed heavily through his nose and ducked another blow. His legs felt slugish and his jaw ached like a bitch.

Alverez spun around and flung his left leg out, kicking him just above his knee. He went down hard. McCray yelled at him to 'get the fuck up'. He didn't need the obvious instruction, knowing that the floor was not the place to be even though he had spent most of his time down there so far. He scrambled up onto his feet again just as Alverez spun around again, ready to aim another kick. Ryan grabbed his ankle before the blow connected and with a jerking motion, twisted hard. The small Latino went down this time.

Ryan managed to aim several powerful kicks to his back before Alverez managed to get up, his face as black as thunder. He charged at Ryan full pelt.

They both crashed into several of the guards, knocking them sideways, and slammed into metal washbasins. Momentum made Ryan's head connect with the polished steel that lined the walls. He shook his head several times as they both hung on to each other to keep balance and was thankful that mirrors were outlawed for obvious reasons or he'd be sporting a face full of broken glass.

Ryan focused again and pushed Alverez away from him. He got several punches in and Alverez stumbled backwards. Ryan took the moment and used it to get his breath back. His knuckles were splitting further with each punch and his face felt like it was on fire. His opponent recovered and launched himself again.

More catcalls from the guards, shouts and instructions but Ryan didn't have time to listen as a fist slammed into his face again and again. He didn't have time to react and he thought this time he was going down for real. Alverez seemed to sense the end too and grew complacent, pausing slightly as he brought his fist back. Ryan found some reserves from God knows where and charged. They both landed on the floor but this time Alverez was under him and Ryan took full advantage of his weight to pin the smaller guy to the floor as he punched.

Ryan was in mid rage blackout as he punched with the full on fury that consumed when a klaxon alarm sounded. It was so loud that it stopped him in his tracks and even Alverez stopped struggling.

The guards were silent for a heartbeat before they erupted.

"_Fuck."_

"_What the hell's happening?"_

McCray pulled his radio off his belt and hurriedly asked what was going on.

Ryan rolled off Alverez knowing that whatever the fuck was going on, it meant the fight was over and watched as all the color drained from McCray's face as he listened to the disembodied voice coming through the static. McCray eventually pressed mute and was silent as if processing the information before he finally spoke. His voice slow and incredulous.

"We've lost control of A, D and E wings. They are fucking out of their cells and ripping the fucking place up and it won't be long before they make their way down here." McCray started pacing. "The governor is on his way in and all staff are being recalled. We've got to get the fuck out of here before we're lynched."

Ryan looked around at the guards but it was Picco who read his mind.

"What about them?" He nodded towards the floor as he ran a hand through his hair.

McCray didn't bother looking at them as he strode past.

"I don't fucking care...shit...kill them….make it look like the rioters." He reached under his jacket and tossed a revolver towards Picco. "I confiscated it from one of the cells. Just make sure you wipe your prints and leave the gun where it can be found."

Ryan shot a look towards Alverez and the Latino slid a sideways glance at him as he wiped blood from his face. All animosity gone now as it sunk in that things were moving beyond a bare-knuckle fight for profit and petty hate. The sounds of clanging doors and footsteps overhead were moving closer. The guards were already fleeing.

* * *

Sandy sat at his desk and made notes on a legal pad. He'd made calls and pulled all the strings he could but still he couldn't get anyone to take any real notice. Several contacts said they'd look into it but Sandy could tell by the tone of their voices that it wouldn't be top on their list of things to do.

People just didn't care.

Illegal fights in a juvenile detention center and talk of mysterious deaths in a place like Starke where conflict and drugs were a way of life sounded fairly normal to an outsider, especially as he had not one shred of evidence. Waddell could sadly be written off as an employee with a grudge but to Sandy it terrified him, especially knowing that a kid like Ryan was being targeted.

It was late or very early depending on how you thought so when the door opened he was surprised to see his wife standing in the doorway.

"Are you coming to bed anytime soon?" she asked softly as she walked over and massaged his shoulders. "You can't do anymore tonight, start afresh in the morning."

He sighed. "What did I do to deserve a wonderful woman like you?"

"I'll just say 'Mail truck'." She smiled enigmatically and he laughed as she dragged him from the chair. He almost ignored it when his cell phone started to buzz but Kirsten paused and picked up the phone, handing it to him.

Waddell's voice sounded slurred as he spoke but it didn't detract any from the chilling words he spoke.

"Cohen...Starke has gone into lock down. The whole place has gone to hell."

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

I own nothing!

**Lock Down**

Chapter 11

Sandy got into his car and drove; his fingers impatiently drumming the steering wheel at each red light. He wasn't even sure why he was driving because he was pretty sure he wouldn't get anywhere near Starke but something was telling him he desperately needed to speak to someone and this time he needed them to listen.

It was too much of a coincidence that this was happening now, happening after Waddell's confessions. He was scared that they were rioting yeah, but he was more terrified that the fight had been the catalyst that had triggered it.

What the hell had happened?

Had something gone terribly wrong?

He swerved to avoid a hobo pushing a cart into the road and he tried to keep the thought that Ryan was in trouble under control.

* * *

Several of the guards tried to act like they'd just woken up as they approached the police keeping the press at bay near the front gates. at the front gates. Shit, why did this have to go down on a fight night? They were all screwed if it got out and one thing for sure, there would be a swarm of government drones heading this way to stick their beaks into everybody's business. Wilko had been at Starke for five years and he'd made a lot of money from the fights and he was happy to let McCray take the lead, he was the type of guy who was content to fade into the background. Money was what drove him but he wanted it risk free and he figured that that little gravy train was derailing fast. This was not something he'd…well any of them could have anticipated. His stomach burned and he chewed on a peppermint to take away the sour taste in his mouth.

Fuck.

There would be a shit storm after this calmed down and there was no way that the investigation would go easy on anyone.

No one could find out that what they'd been doing; he knew his colleagues wouldn't talk, they were either too scared or implicated up to their asses, no, the definite weak link was the two punks tonight. He'd heard McCray and Pico would solve that little problem.

It would be okay. He crunched his mint and winced at the burn that crept up his windpipe.

* * *

The governor marched through the throng of people, doing his best to ignore the press as they shouted at him, each trying to get a sound bite for the morning news. He kept his head down and made his way past the police giving them a barked order to let him through.

He saw one of his staff standing around looking like a spare prick at a wedding. Why the hell wasn't he inside trying to get control again? That's what they were paid to do dammit. And where the hell was McCray? He never liked McCray. Too shifty and he was a cold son of a bitch but he kept the little bastards in order that was sure…usually that was. He'd picked a fine time to disappear.

"What the hell is going on, how did this happen?" He hissed.

"I punched out at twelve sir, everything was quiet then." Wilko shrugged.

He glared at the guard but he coolly stared back at him. It was never anybody's fault!

"I want answers and I damn well want them now! Where's McCray?"

Again a shrug but the governor detected a shifty look but he didn't have time to dwell on what it meant. The governor had spied the board of directors huddled in a black suited mass talking hurriedly to one another and looking as worried as he felt. He straightened his shoulders and walked over to them.

"Gentlemen, we'll have this under control before you know it." He boomed with more confidence than he felt.

* * *

Wilko was feeling more than anxious. Pico's cell was ringing and ringing ominously. He walked over to where the other gamblers stood.

Where were fucking Pico and McCray? They should have been out by now but there was still no sign.

* * *

Ryan watched as Pico paced, gun in hand. Would he have the balls to shoot? Ryan wasn't so sure but the guard was as twitchy as a crack whore who'd just smoked her last and that was never a good thing. Alverez nudged his arm and looked hard at him. Ryan knew without words what the Latino was suggesting. If they could rush Pico whilst he wrestled with his conscience then they stood a chance.

With a nod Alverez signalled 'now'

Ryan got to his knees, ready to push off the floor.

They didn't have time to move because in that instant Pico's expression hardened, maybe he'd sensed what they were about to do, maybe he had just realized that if he didn't shoot them McCray would hang him up by his balls, whatever the trigger in an instant Pico turned and fired.

The loud crack made Ryan jump and he waited for the pain to hit but it never came as Ryan felt Alverez fly backwards next to him. He could only stare with horrified fascination at the red stain that was blooming out of Alverez's stomach and running down his ribs as he lay on the cold tiles.

Ryan swung his head to where Pico stood, the gun held loosely in his hand now, a look of stark shock etched on the guard's face. It was one thing to pull the trigger; it was another to watch a human bleed out knowing you'd just caused it. Pico wasn't a killer, he was a classic coward and he was obviously scared shitless by what he'd just done but he would also have a strong sense of self-preservation and it wouldn't take long for him to recover.

Ryan seized on Pico's hesitation to aim again and pushed himself forward with all the strength he could muster. The guard looked panicked at the sudden movement and swung the gun up in an arch, firing wildly but Ryan was already butting him in the chest with his head. They both fell to the floor in a messy heap. Pico shouting expletives and flailing as they slid across the tiles. Ryan was conscious that the lump of silver metal was still firmly grasped in Pico's hand. With his blood pumping and adrenaline whizzing though every fibre of his body he grabbed at the gun. Pico was too quick and moved his hand with the speed of light it seemed. Ryan felt the full force of the gun against the underside of his jaw. His teeth rattled and he bit his tongue tasting the tang of blood flood his mouth but he didn't pause and slammed his fist hard into the guard's nose. He actually felt the cartilage explode under his knuckles. He hit again for good measure and the gun skidded across the floor laying tantalizingly close but just that little bit out of reach for both of them. Pico looked terrified and he seemed to realize that the tables had turned. He struggled like an electric eel under Ryan with new vigour, frantically scrambling for the gun. Ryan spat blood out of his mouth as he fought to keep hold of the guard as Pico inched his hand towards the weapon, the tips of his fingers connecting with the faux leather inset into the handle.

Fear flooded Ryan. If that gun got into Pico's hands again then there was a very real possibility that one of them was going to end up dead and he knew that the chances of Pico losing his grip again was zero. The guard had a renewed fanatical look about him and unfortunately Ryan could feel himself weaken with every second that passed. He knew he couldn't hold on much longer, his body was already crying foul from the fight. He couldn't even punch anymore as one of his bruised fists was being crushed in Pico's grip and Ryan's other hand was trying to stop the guard from getting the gun.

Ryan took a calculated risk. He removed his hand and grabbed at Pico's hair. Unheeded Pico grabbed the gun and was swinging it up towards Ryan's head but in that instant Ryan jerked Pico's head off the floor and slammed it down hard with all his might. It slammed into the tiles with a sickening thud and the gun dropped out of the guard's fist. Ryan lifted Pico's head and again and again cracked the back of his skull against the floor until Pico stopped struggling.

The guard looked confused then his eyes shut. Ryan watched for signs that the guard was playing possum but when he released his hold Pico's head loosely fell to the side in a move that couldn't be faked. Ryan scrambled backwards off Pico's body and stared at the guard.

Fuck. He'd done what he'd hoped to, incapacitate the guard but the way he was laying sent alarm bells straight to his brain.

Ryan crept forward and with a trembling hand and placed it against his neck like they always did on TV. He couldn't feel anything. He moved his fingers around hoping to find the tell tale pulse undulating under the skin.

Nothing.

He checked again, this time his fingers pressed harder; again and again he pressed praying for some sign.

Oh god. Ryan sat back on his ass and shut his eyes as his body fought against the shock. Who was going to believe it was self-defense?

A strangled moan shook him out of his thoughts. He hurried over to where Alverez was clawing at the tiles, trying to hold onto anything, his legs outstretched now and twitching. Ryan gulped and stared at the mess that was once his stomach. He could feel himself hyperventilating as much as the wounded man was. Ryan looked around him as if a team of medics would suddenly appear and tell him what he should be doing but all he could hear was the whooping shouts and crashes coming from the floor above as people rioted. He spied his t-shirt balled up in the corner of the room. He wadded it up and pressed it against the gunshot wound. Alverez cried out and made a weak attempt to push his hands away but Ryan kept his weight held firm to try and stop the bleeding.

"Hey, you're going be okay, man."

Ryan didn't believe it but he kept a steady flow of words coming. He didn't even know what he was saying half the time but it seemed to calm the guy. He even got a weak smile when he cracked a lame joke about not thinking this made him Alverez's bitch.

One of Alverez's hands gripped Ryan's wrist.

"Thanks." His voice was barely above a whisper.

For what, Ryan thought. He knew he should get help but he also knew that if he stopped compressing the wound then Alverez was dead for sure.

Plus it suddenly became important not to leave and let him die on his own.

* * *

McCray was hiding in a stairwell figuratively shitting himself. He'd tried to make it out but the little bastards were swarming effectively blocking all exits. He chewed on the skin at the base of his thumbnail and tried to think of a way out of this mess. Maybe if he just stayed where he was no one would find him until this shit was over then he could pretend that someone had cracked him over the head in the course of carrying out his duty. He'd have to think up a good excuse to explain what he was doing in the prison off shift. Writing up a forgotten report would do it, that still wouldn't explain what he was doing so far from the office…hell, he'd have fucking amnesia or something, claim a ton of comp to make up for the trauma. McCray gave a silent smirk. This might work out well after all. Pico would have by now wasted the two cons and that would solve that little problem and he would end up with a nice stash to retire on.

He was still ruminating on what he'd spend his money on when a shadow blocked the red alarm light across from him.

"Damn, I must have been a really good boy because all my birthdays have come at once!" Dante grinned broadly. "Mr McCray …I think this would be called payback."

McCray lifted his head and looked at the group that appeared behind Dante.

Ronk, Wolf, Spence, Silvio plus Napoleon and his crew and they were all smiling at him not in a friendly 'come have a beer with us' way.

"Please…I…don't hurt me."

"What makes you think we're going to hurt you…sir??" Dante said sarcastically grabbing the collar of his sweatshirt and pulled.

McCray now felt his bowels loosen as they advanced on him, this time in a totally non-metaphorically way.

* * *

Sandy impatiently waited behind the cordon waiting for news of any kind. Despite the placatory assurances of just about every official he'd asked that everything was under control it was clear to see that it was anything but. Several prisoners had made there way up onto the roof and were throwing tiles and anything else they could find as they shouted and swore about the injustices they'd been subjected too, everything from cold water in the shower blocks to the standard of the food.

Sandy scanned the faces again, praying this time he'd see Ryan even though he knew that this display would be totally out of character for the kid he'd come to know but at least if he was up on the roof it meant he was okay.

* * *

Alverez was silent now, his breath coming in shallow little puffs of air. Ryan knew he was fighting a loosing battle. Blood covered his hands and his arms were cramping from not moving but he still kept the pressure up even though it was doing no good.

Then he heard heavy footfalls outside and the doors to the shower block flew open. Ronk, Silvio and Dante charged in. They took in the scene before them. Several others followed and stopped short when they saw the guard on the floor.

"Pico shot him…I…I think I killed him," Ryan explained weakly, suddenly so fucking tired and glad that someone else was there to take the slack.

"We though you were dead," Ronk blurted out. "Shit man, you look like you've been chewed by a T-rex. You okay?"

Ryan nodded numbly.

Dante went over to where Pico lay. He could see blood making a slow path towards one of the drainage holes in the floor, he knelt down and moved Pico's head with one hand before letting it fall back.

Someone pushed Ryan away and he let them take over care of Alverez. He slumped down and rested his head against his knees. He felt sick and just about every part of his body ached.

"I didn't mean to kill him." Ryan repeated to himself more to himself than anything.

Dante placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You've gotta get out of here."

Ryan lifted his head not understanding.

Dante stood and cradled the back of his neck in his hand as he looked from where Alverez lay and where Pico was sprawled.

"Get him back to his cell. Make sure he's locked in." Dante barked at Silvio before he turned to Ryan. "Listen, you were never here. You've been locked in your cell since this morning. Got it?"

"What? No, I'm not going anywhere…I did this…" Ryan frowned and stood up.

"Jesus Ryan! Fuck off out of here. Let us take care of this…go!" Dante nodded to Ronk and Silvio and Ryan found himself being dragged through the corridors for the second time that night. He was too weary this time to struggle.

**TBC**

R+R because I'm such a review whore and make no excuses for it!


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: **Lock Dow**n**

**Chapter:** 12

**Rating:** NC17 for my pottymouth and some situations.

**Beta: **None because I just want to post it before I fiddle any more.

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie.

**Story: **AU set in the first season. Due to showing loyalty to his brother Trey, Ryan finds himself sentenced to thirty six months in the harsh Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility. It's all fiction.

* * *

**Lock Down**

_Chapter 12_

The kids on the roof had all but stripped the terracotta tiles and were now ripping up anything else they could get their hands on.

The men in suits had disappeared; no doubt to a war room somewhere to pace and nervously smoke out of the sight of the press as they hurriedly talked about who they'd blame for the mess they found themselves in.

* * *

Ryan sat on his bunk and stared at his hands, Alverez's blood turning to a tawny black where it caked around his ragged cuticles. His hands trembled as he stared and saw in his minds eye Pico lying on the floor, not moving.

He drew his knees up and rolled onto his side, wrapping his hands around his head to try and block out the sounds of footsteps and shouts that crashed and swooped through the prison like a soundtrack to chaos.

He felt tired.

The blind panic he'd felt when he'd hit Pico had suddenly given way to confusion at being dragged unceremoniously back to his cell by Ronk and Silvio. They didn't pause along the way and only spoke as they locked the door on him, telling him to 'keep his fucking head down and not say squat to anyone'.

Now all he felt was a strange torpidity. Disconnected from everything that was going on around him. He was lucid enough to be concerned that it wasn't normal. He supposed that maybe it was shock setting in or maybe just the after affects as his brain crashed down from its adrenaline rush of the past couple of hours. All he knew was his body hurt just about everywhere but he didn't care and he couldn't focus on anything other than the deep sense of fear that blocked everything out.

He was screwed. He'd killed a prison guard and in the laws eyes that was probably just one-step down from being a cop killer even if it had been self defence. Who'd listen to him?

He shut his eyes and wondered when it had all gone wrong.

His mom had always told him he was the good one; obviously she'd revised that proclamation if her absence from his visit log was anything to go by.

Now he'd killed a man and it was all over for him.

He'd never felt so alone.

* * *

Sandy watched as truck after truck pulled up, spilling manpower out of every door as people shouted orders.

He found himself seriously wanting to punch someone, to shout and shake someone in charge until he got answers. He hadn't experienced the feeling for a very long time but something was obviously happening and no one was telling him anything. He felt like a spare part, left on the fringes of something important like a child watching a grown up party and he was getting pretty pissed.

He just wanted news of Ryan. Needed to know he was okay because ambulances were turning up at an alarming rate and were lining up…waiting.

* * *

The static crackled over the airwaves as the order came.

Enter the building.

Use force if necessary.

Get control back by any means.

* * *

Dante charged along the corridor, pushing bodies out of his way as he went. Covering his eyes and mouth with his tee as the canisters of acrid gas bounced behind him, smoke billowing. Napoleon and his crew were further along scuffling with several cops in full riot gear.

He aimed a full force punch at the neck of a cop who had Silvio in a headlock.

His blood pumping hard as he felt a force crash into his back and was flattened against the floor. Next thing he felt was the cold snap of cuffs being clamped around his wrists as someone knelt on his back.

"Get your fucking hands off me," He spat as his eyes and nose streamed from the gas but to be honest he felt a sense of relief that it was all coming to the end.

Dante hoped that it had all been worth it.

* * *

They eventually found McCray's body stuffed in an air vent. His face had been slashed from ear to ear with a blade and there was a boot print across his neck.

* * *

_One week later…._

Sandy pulled a chair up to the bed and placed the bag of grapes he'd brought with him on the table next to him.

Ryan was sat on the edge of the bed wearing sweats and a baggy black vest that gaped loosely.

"Hey kid. Looking better..." He lied.

Ryan still wouldn't look him straight in the eye for longer than a couple of seconds before he'd become interested in something else in the room and that depressed him but Ryan did thank him for the fruit so that was an improvement.

As Ryan shuffled the bag of grapes behind a scratched, well worn plastic jug of water. Sandy's eyes were drawn to the smudges of green, blue and red ran down Ryan's arms and across his chest. The bruising on his face was less vivid than the last time he'd visited but the twin moons of purple still ringed his eyes and the livid yellow across his cheek still made him wince.

Ryan still hadn't talked about what happened the night of the lock down. No matter how much he probed. The kid could make a mute seem talkative when he wanted. When He'd brought up the deaths of the guards Ryan had all but shut down, showed no emotion at all but Sandy had learnt to read his eyes and they told a different story.

Something was troubling the kid big time.

All Sandy knew was Ryan had been one of fifteen or so inmates that hadn't been let out of their cells for one reason or another when the prison had erupted. He'd eventually been found badly beaten and semi-conscious on his bunk and had been taken to the local hospital along with some of the other prisoners who weren't considered a threat to the staff or a huge flight risk. They were still being watched but at least they had better care than the inmates who had ended up in the prison medical wing.

Ryan's injuries thankfully hadn't been severe, mainly bruising and contusions, a few broken ribs and a cracked collarbone but a nasty concussion and a lingering fever were keeping him from being discharged. For that, Sandy was thankful, as it had given him time to pull strings like he'd never pulled strings before. That was the main reason why he was sitting beside Ryan again but things were still worrying him even though he'd just got the best news he could have hoped for that morning.

The official story that Sandy had been spun was that as a new prisoner Ryan hadn't wanted to get involved in the riots, so had been singled out for violence as a consequence.

Whilst Sandy was relieved because although by officially spinning that particular tail Ryan was exonerated from any of the deaths and violence that had occurred during that night… it didn't ring true from what he knew of Ryan. Here was a kid who was inside because he'd blindly followed his brother and Sandy doubted that he'd just sit back and let everything go on around him.

A contact at the police dept had already talked of a total cover up regarding the illegal activities going on inside. And the guards that had died were being canonized as men who'd bravely lost their lives protecting the public by trying to stop violent offenders escaping but Sandy knew different. Waddell had told a very different story and Sandy was pissed that it was being suppressed. He'd always had faith in the system but it seemed that the system was as corrupt as it had always been.

And whole thing stunk to high heaven.

But Ryan wasn't talking and neither was anyone else so he couldn't prove anything. He just came across as a campaigning liberal rattling his sabre to make some noise against the establishment.

Sandy had tried to get Waddell to repeat his claims but the old guard had back-stepped and refused to bring things out in the open. The next thing Sandy knew was he'd shut up house and vanished. When Sandy spoke to Waddell's neighbours, they thought that he'd gone on vacation to Florida or maybe Vegas, they talked of a sudden windfall.

Windfall?

Sandy thought it sounded like a big fat dirty payoff to keep his mouth shut but proving who'd made it was impossible.

Sandy needed answers but the one person who could tell was staring at the floor whilst picking at his plastic hospital wristband.

Sandy took a deep breath and hoped what he had to say would make Ryan trust him more. Make Ryan realize that he kept his promises.

"Kid, I told you I was wasn't going to give up on you didn't I?"

Ryan looked up wearily and didn't say anything but Sandy could tell he'd got his attention.

"So, here's the deal. The prison board have reviewed your sentence. I made an appeal that your sentence did not reflect the crime and considering it was your first offence the state of California were amiss to hand down such a sentence and quoted the statistics of several cases that set a precedent. I may have also made a recommendation that…" Sandy couldn't help grinning. "…in light of what happened that it would be a shame if you were to put in for a large compensation claim against the state, that maybe it would be best to give your care over to a responsible adult in lieu of further time inside. You're not going back kid."

"What?" His brows knotted in confusion. Ryan looked like he didn't believe him, didn't trust himself to believe.

"Of course…you'll have to keep your nose clean for the next year and see a probation officer but I think it's a good result."

Sandy could see the wheels turning in Ryan's brain as he tried to process it all.

"So I'll go back to mom's?" For the first time in a week Ryan showed real animation. Ryan looked so hopeful that it broke Sandy's heart.

He slowly shook his head.

"Sorry…we…I tried to find her but it looks like she skipped town. The house was empty. No forwarding address."

From what he'd seen of the woman when Ryan had been arrested Sandy thought it was a good thing but her son obviously didn't and the look of pain that shot across Ryan's face made him want to say a few choice words to Dawn Atwood.

"Right…So that's it right…" The defeated look was back.

Sandy took a breath and said what he'd wanted to say since he'd brought it up with his family when he'd found out that Ryan needed someplace to stay.

"I've spoken to my wife and my son and we'd like you to come and live with us."

Ryan shut his eyes briefly then stared at Sandy.

The reaction was not what he'd hoped for.

"Thanks for the offer but I…I can't. It wouldn't work."

"Why? We've certainly got the room and Seth is already compiling a Cohen welcome pack." Sandy raised an eyebrow and wondered if Ryan really wanted a copy of 'Goonies'.

Ryan got up off the bed and walked to the window. Sandy had expected reserve from Ryan as he didn't seem to be the type to jump up and down with joy but the silent staring out of the window wasn't part of the plan.

"No, Mr Cohen."

"Why…give me one good reason why this wouldn't work?" Sandy put a hand on his shoulder but Ryan shrugged it off and moved away.

"You shouldn't want me around your family…I did something…I didn't mean to hurt anyone but…." His voice quiet and again he seemed to deflate but there was also a pleading look behind his eyes that begged Sandy to understand. "You're a decent man and your family seem really, really nice and I appreciate you trying to help me but…if you knew about me, trust me, you wouldn't be trying to help me…"

Sandy sat back down. He felt bad for using the moment but for the first time it seemed like Ryan was weakening. His silent resolve seemed to be crumbling in front of his eyes.

"Ryan, I'm not leaving until you tell me what happened to you and let me tell you I'm as stubborn as you are…so you'd better start talking. Who did you hurt?"

Sandy folded his arms and waited, his heart in his mouth wondering if he really wanted to hear what Ryan might say but trusting his instincts about the boy in front of him.

They hit a stalemate that lasted for a full ten minutes before Ryan started talking. His voice low and husky.

It all came out.

He told Sandy about McCray and Pico locking him in solitary for days on end, keeping him in the dark, the beatings and turning the ice-cold hose on him.

Ryan told Sandy the real reason he'd refused to see him. His voice shook when he told about McCray threatening to have his brother killed.

Sandy's mouth went dry when Ryan's flat monolog detailed the brutality of the shower block with everyone betting and baying for blood as he and another inmate punched each other senseless.

Ryan faltered when he got to McCray giving Pico a gun. His voice became an almost whisper.

The gunshot.

Wrestling with Pico.

Then hitting Pico's head against the tiles again and again until he dropped the gun.

Sandy shut his eyes and could picture the whole thing. He couldn't imagine being in the same situation.

But still Ryan talked.

He told of the panic he'd felt as he tried to stop Alverez from bleeding to death.

Finally he went silent after saying he'd been bundled back into his cell and told not to say anything.

Ryan finally looked up at him as if he was trying to gauge what the reaction to his tale would be.

Sandy slowly got up and walked towards Ryan. Here was a kid the same age as his own son but the difference couldn't have been more marked. He'd always protected Seth from harm but it seemed that no one had protected this kid and now Ryan was torturing himself over something that any man would have done put in the same situation. He knew one hundred percent now that his instincts had been correct. Here was a kid who could have stayed silent, could have lied and nobody would have been able to prove a damn thing but instead Ryan had chosen to speak the truth and give up any hope of a life that most cons would have only fantasized about.

He felt even worse when Ryan flinched as he pulled him into a hug. Jesus. The kid had been living in hell for weeks.

"It's okay. It's okay."

Ryan pushed him away.

"How can this be okay? How can this be okay…I killed a fucking guard!" His voice was ragged with emotion.

Sandy ran his fingers through his hair. Something was nagging him. Something had itched at his brain when Ryan told him about Pico.

"You stay here. I'll be back. Ryan…this is not your fault. You did what you had to do remember that, you had no choice…I'll be back…soon."

* * *

Seth and Kirsten sat at the kitchen counter eating brownies straight out of the baking tin.

"Do you think we should get him a TV for his room?" Kirsten mused. "Maybe he won't like the pool house. He could have the spare room."

"Mom, the guys been inside…he'll love the pool house. His own bathroom…his own shower…no Buba asking to share his soap."

"Seth!" His mom's mouth hung open. "That doesn't really happen… does it?"

Seth grinned at his mom. He hadn't seen her this interested in something other than work for a long time.

* * *

Sandy rang from his office He paced as he waited for the phone to be picked up the other end.

"Lieutenant Sumner." The gruff greeting changed when he heard who was calling. "Sandy…you owe me a shrimp taco."

"Mike, I'll owe you two, plus a beer. I need another favour. I need to check something on the deaths at Starke."

"Okaaay, Sandman, fire away."

Sandy detailed what he needed to know.

"Give me five and I'll get back to you. And my rates have just gone up…a bottle of the good stuff." Sumner chuckled.

"Hell, you can have a whole case if you get me the info I need." Sandy promised.

He drummed his fingers on his table as he stared at his phone. He almost jumped when the thing chirped into life less than ten minutes later.

He grabbed the handset and listened.

"Are you sure about that?" He asked.

"Yeah, it says right here. Men don't usually suck a pan full of john water into their lungs if they are already dead. It's here in black and white…cause of death 'drowning'. Coroner thinks his head was held in the can due to the fact that he had urine, faecal matter and disinfectant water in his airways. Damn, I can think of better ways to go." Sumner made a gagging noise. "I take it that's what you wanted to hear?"

"That is the understatement of the centaury. Mike, not only do I owe you a case of the finest whiskey known to man but you can even sleep with my wife!" Sandy laughed.

"Do you want to tell her that or shall I?" Sumner grinned.

* * *

Ryan looked up at the house as Sandy got his briefcase out of the car.

He couldn't help but widen his eyes. The place was a freaking palace. The guard on the gate should have warned him but this was just mind-blowing. Sandy had even told him that he'd have his own space…with a kitchen and everything. Incredible! He still had to pinch himself that this was really happening.

The entrance hall was stunning, the sweep of the staircase, the marble. Shit, you could have fitted the whole of his old house into the space.

Sandy rushed off calling for his wife.

Ryan walked slowly towards the sound of a TV.

A geeky looking kid with a mass of curly hair wearing a tight tee, jeans and sneakers was engrossed with the Playstation. The kid looked up as he entered.

"Hey!" The smile was genuine, he held out a controller. "Wanna play?"

Ryan instantly felt himself relax.

He sat down.

"What are we playing?"

* * *

Dante was prodded by a guard and told he had a phone call.

He'd spent a week in solitary for his part in the riot. Thankfully the wall of silence had held and McCray and Pico's deaths were quickly swept under the proverbial carpet. Oh people knew what had happened but knowing and proving were two different things but Napoleon had got payback for Alverez that was for sure.

And McCray?

McCray had been all his.

Dante picked up the handset and barked at whoever had disturbed his smoke break.

"Thanks."

It was just one word but it felt good to hear it. Where he came from people didn't thank one another.

"No problem...just don't fuck up again or you'll have me to deal with."

He put the phone down and smiled. Maybe there was something in doing things for other people.

Then again, maybe not.

Dante pushed past a guy as he walked over to where Ronk, Silvio and co sat playing cards.

**The End**


End file.
